


Can't Take the Sky From Me

by keptein



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptein/pseuds/keptein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Space is cold and unforgiving. There's not much they can do about the former, but Steve Rogers and his crew of fugitives try to help with the latter – picking up odd jobs and doing what they can for people in need. Unfortunately, that isn't always enough, and having the Alliance captain Tony Stark on their tail isn't helping helping matters – especially not when they’re asked to rescue Bruce Banner from OsCorp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know there's already at least one Firefly AU floating around, but there can never be too many. This is an unapologetic jumble of characterization, as I'm working with several characters not in MCU ( _yet_ , hopefully. Looking at you, Carol). Thanks to Linda and Z for betaing and cheerleading. This is a WIP, but the rest of the story is all plotted out and just waiting to be written.

The hangar was cold. Steve stopped, the drop in temperature suddenly obvious. He couldn't see his own breath, but he still drew his jacket tighter around him, resisting the urge to rub at his arms. Instead, he put a hand on the wall; the metal was colder than usual, and the faint hum of America's engine wasn't as evident either. He banged on the metal, to hear the reverberation, and then flicked on the intercom. “Peter, why are we cold?”

 _“Sorry, Cap,”_ the young engineer replied. _“I'm just, uh—”_ there was a slight bang, _“—going to fix_ that _, and then see what I can do about the heating. She's low on fuel, Carol's crazy Stark-evading ways pretty much emptied her out, so I don't know how much I can get done before we've refueled – heating takes up a lot. Space is kind of cold.”_

“So I'm noticing,” Steve said dryly, and cut the transmission. He walked from the hangar to the cockpit, where Carol was sitting with her boots on the dashboard, looking at the stars. She didn't bother removing them when she spotted him watching.

“Hey,” she said. “What do you want? I definitely lost him this time, his pilot is too by-the-book.”

“I believe you,” Steve said. Alliance pilots often were, so it stood to reason Stark’s crew wasn’t any different, even though Stark himself was fairly unorthodox compared to the military men Steve had met. “How close are we to a fuel station?”

“Any fuel station, or a safe fuel station?” Carol asked. She put her legs down, now, and was calling up a holographic map of the closest planets and station clusters. “There's one over at Baile, but – hold on – there's been some Alliance activity there recently.” The news reports she'd looked up framed the map, using an old algorithm Peter had written for detecting Alliance activity.

“Any sign as to whether they're still there? We don't seem to have much to go on.”

Carol shrugged. “Not as far as I can see, no, but it's still risky. Not that I have any problems with risky, but you might want to lay low since we _just_ managed to lose Stark again.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, slightly grim. “Where's the closest you'd vouch for? I'll ask Peter how long she'll last.”

Carol nodded, and set to investigate the map more thoroughly while Steve pressed a button on the intercom again.

 _“Yeah?”_ Peter said, slightly winded.

“How far do you think we could make it?”

_“Not very far. Where's the closest fuel station?”_

“Baile, but there's been Alliance activity.”

 _“Well, that's no good. Uhm, Baile would be our best bet – and I don't know about you guys, but pulling off a mission like that makes me_ hungry _, so I'd really like some food, too. As soon as I've—”_ Peter grunted, _“fixed this. Can someone tell my wife she should be expecting a hungry, extraordinarily heroic husband soon?”_

“The closest safe spot is Paiyan,” Carol told them, looking toward Steve.

 _“Paiyan is too far, food-making or no,”_ Peter replied. _“Fuel won't last that long.”_

“Baile it is, then,” Steve said. “I'll go help MJ make food.”

“ETA's four hours, we're still pretty far out,” Carol shouted after him. “Make a lot of food, Peter's not the only hungry one!”

*

“I'd like to thank you all for your great work today,” Steve said, around the dinner-table.

“That's one word for it,” Peter mumbled, leaning on Mary Jane. He looked tired, which wasn't particularly surprising – he'd been forced to put his agility to the test, making it out of Stark's ship today.

“We were in a tight spot,” Steve continued, ignoring Peter, “but we got out of it, and the good people of Grant now have a little more for the upcoming winter.”

“I'm very proud of you,” MJ said, pecking her husband on the cheek. From the other side of the table, Carol was resting her eyes on them, face quiet and indecipherable. Steve poked her a bit with his foot under the table.

“And, as always, some excellent flying,” he added.

Carol gave him a smile, and Steve could see tiredness she wouldn't admit to in the lines of it. “It's what I do,” she said.

“ETA at Baile is still two hours and some,” Steve said. “You're all free to do whatever you'd like until then.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Peter said, throwing in a mock salute.

“Of course, someone has to do the dishes..”

“No way, I won Duties the other night, it's Carol's turn!”

“It is _not_ ,” Carol said. “In what world is 'won' a synonym for 'distracting my fellow players and then making up rules while their back is turned'?”

MJ sighed, cutting off the argument. “I'll do them,” she said, “since I've been of no use today.”

“That's not true, you made us _delicious_ food,” Peter said, causing MJ to raise her eyebrows at him.

“I'll help you,” Steve told MJ, taking out his and Carol's plates. Behind him, he could hear Peter and Carol re-start their argument.

“You know you're very helpful, right?” he asked MJ, in the relative quiet of the kitchen.

She sighed again, turning on the tap. “I know, it's just … I don't feel like I'm doing anything. I feel like you guys are out there putting your lives on the line, and I'm just sitting here on my ass reading magazines.”

“We try to avoid life-threatening situations, if that helps,” Steve said. “Look, it might not be fun, but you keeping a spotless record is incredibly important to this crew. I won't risk sullying it.” He put a soap packet in the water. “Listen, Mary Jane, I can make a tourniquet and use an antiseptic syringe, but that’s about it. We need you and your expertise.”

“I don’t even have a proper medical degree, I’m just a _nurse,_ ” MJ said.

“Not _just_ a nurse,” Steve said sternly. “You’re a nurse, and you’re an excellent one, but you’re also an integral part of the team. Carol and I would be dead on our feet if we hadn’t found you and Peter, and not just because _America_ was falling apart without an engineer. I know it’s hard, not joining us on missions, but you sewing us up when we get back here matters just as much as – more than – the mission itself. I hope you realize that.”

“I do,” MJ assured him. “Really, Steve, don't worry about it. I just feel a bit useless at times, everybody does.”

“True,” Steve said, filing away the worry for later.

*

“Here we are, lady and gentlemen,” Carol presented, arms spread wide, “Baile.”

“It looks … empty,” MJ said.

 _“Understatement_. I feel like the only thing that's missing are tumbleweeds,” Peter remarked.

“That's just how it looks,” Steve said, somewhat uncertainly.

“Well, at least we can clearly see there's no Alliance,” Peter said optimistically. “No Alliance, and no Stark, is good enough for me.”

Baile used to be a small planet before it was terraformed; now, it was an equally small terra – ANT-B-38-XE, informally known as Baile – with the scant population of a few farmers and their cattle. The main attraction on the entire planet was the gas station, but even that didn't seem very popular, going by the single ship by the fuel towers and the five people visible to _America_ 'screw.

“Let's just refuel and get a move on,” Steve said, finally stepping off the ship's bay to feel the earth under him. For all that he loved the black, there was something about solid ground beneath him that was unbeatable.

“Aye aye,” Peter said. “MJ, you coming?” He took her by the hand, and they went over to the fuel towers and their loiterers, all clad in the same dirt-green over-alls.

Steve looked after them, and decided to have a quick look at the All-in-One next to the station. In this case, All-in-One referred to a bar and café, a grocery store, and a hair dresser.

“You looking for a job?” Carol asked, appearing at his side.

Steve shrugged. “Well, you never know,” he said. “You wanna order something?”

Peter and MJ always took a while refueling the ship. Steve didn't really understand the process, and so he couldn't comment on the time being unusual or not; he wasn't stupid, but machines had never been particularly kind to him. It wasn't without reason _America_ 's worst time had been after Carol and he had started running, before they'd found an engineer. Carol could make her stay up and moving, but that was about it.

“Two beers, please,” Carol told the barkeep, who replied in a monosyllabic grunt. He was pale and spotty, no doubt spending the majority of his time indoors, despite Baile mainly supporting the farmer occupation. Steve guessed enough folks arrived for fuel and stayed for a beer that he'd been spared working in the fields.

“Beer, that's adventurous,” Steve commented as they turned away from the bar.

“You really think this hole's got anything better?” Carol asked rhetorically, before a brunette by the window distracted her. “Well, I'll be—Betty? Betty Ross?”

They made their way over to the woman, Steve following Carol, and she turned toward them at the sound of Carol's voice.

“Oh Kani, Carol Danvers,” she said, but her smile seemed watery and pale.

“It's been so long!” Carol exclaimed, sitting down next to her without preamble. “How've you been?”

“I've been fine, I guess,” Betty said. Steve took a seat opposite them, feeling a tad awkward as he did so.

“Oh, Steve, this is Betty Ross, an old friend of mine. Betty, this is Steve Rogers, he's on my crew.”

“You're on _my_ crew,” Steve corrected, and Carol flashed him a quick grin, the joke old and familiar.

Betty's eyes, which had been shuttered and despondent when they'd first seen them, brightened. “Steve Rogers?”

“Yes?” People knowing his name usually didn't bode well, but Betty didn't look like she was going to turn them in immediately, so Steve stayed seated.

“I think you might be able to help me.”

*

After Betty had finished explaining about her professor boyfriend, who'd tried to recreate the super-soldier serum – upon hearing this, Steve valiantly fought his exasperated expression – with terrible consequences and was now captured by the Alliance, they sat in silence for a couple of minutes.

“And you want us to rescue him?” Steve said finally.

“ _Please_ ,” Betty said. Her eyes, which had been desert dry throughout her story, had now adopted a slight sheen, and Carol tightened the arm she had around her. “I can pay, I have some money—”

“Betty,” Carol said. “Don't sweat it – let's just say you owe us one.”

Betty nodded, looking at her.

“Where—” Steve began.

“OsCorp,” Betty said. “He fell under Norman Osborn's jurisdiction.”

Steve was torn. He knew saving this professor was the right thing to do, even though Steve privately thought he deserved part of it; time and time again, the super-soldier serum had proven itself unstable at best, with unforeseen and grotesque consequences in all but one case. Even so, he couldn't help feeling a bit responsible for Banner's current situation – Steve _being_ that one successful case was what made people continue to be interested in the serum, after all. And, even though Banner should have known the possible repercussions, Steve still wouldn't wish Norman Osborn on anyone.

He glanced at Carol; her eyes, when they met his, showed she'd already made her decision. Steve made a mental note to ask where she knew Betty Ross from – not many people inspired this level of loyalty in Carol. “Can I talk to you?” Steve asked. Carol nodded, and said something in a low voice to Betty before getting up and walking back to the bar, where they'd first surveyed the bar.

“We should be laying low,” Steve told her.

“We should,” Carol agreed, “but we won't. Look, you and I both know we'll do this gig. It's not like Peter will argue – he hates Osborn more than the two of us put together, which ...”

“Is completely understandable,” Steve finished. “Does she actually have any money?”

“She's living off a research grant,” Carol said. “So no, not so much.” They looked around in silence. “Stark doesn't like Osborn, so he probably won't be close-by either,” Carol finally said, as if this finished their discussion. In a way, Steve supposed, it did.

They returned to Betty's table. “In order to rescue Dr. Banner,” Steve said as he was sitting down, “we're going to need more details.”

*

The hangar was as warm as it should be, and when Steve put his hand on the wall, _America_ 's engine vibrated loudly in answer. Everything was back to normal, and Steve loosened his jacket in relief. The Stark encounter had rattled all of them, for slightly different reasons – at least in Steve's case – but things seemed to be evening out now. MJ and Peter had already boarded the ship by the time Carol and Steve made their way back, which meant they'd have to be caught up on the Banner situation. “Crew call to the kitchen,” Steve said into the intercom, and made his way to the spacious kitchen-cum-living room.

MJ and Peter were already curled up in the old couch together when he entered. Peter had his glasses on, which he once confided to Steve was pure habit – glasses themselves were a rare sight these days, a needless expense when people could just get the surgery – and the chip in his tab read some technology magazine he must've picked up at the station. MJ was absently running her fingers over her tab.

Before Steve could open his mouth, the sound of Carol's boots was audible. She exchanged a quiet greeting with the couple before taking a seat by the dinner table close to the couch, eyes on Steve.

“We've got a job,” Steve began.

Peter groaned. “Already? What happened to laying low and recuperating?”

“We'll need some supplies, so we're doing that on the way.”

“What's the job?” MJ asked, putting her tablet down. She straightened, forcing Peter to straighten too.

“We're getting Dr. Bruce Banner out of OsCorp,” Carol said, before Steve could sugarcoat it.

 _OsCorp_ hung in the air for a few seconds as MJ and Peter processed it. “I know it seems sudden,” Steve said, “but it needs doing, and we're the ones getting it done.”

“Aye aye,” Peter said. As Carol had predicted, he didn't seem to object to going against Osborn, but MJ had an unhappy, uncertain twist to her mouth.

“Right now, we're on course to Xiūpolis to pick up uniforms. They'll get us in. Carol and I will try to enter unseen and get to Dr. Banner. According to Betty Ross, he's held at the third basement level,” Steve said, and beckoned to MJ and Peter to join him and Carol at the dinner table. Betty had been able to provide them with the blueprints for the OsCorp division Bruce was held at, although she couldn't explain exactly why. There'd been a mention of a friendly hacker.

“Betty Ross?” MJ repeated.

“Our client. She's Banner's girlfriend.”

“And an old friend of mine,” Carol put in. She glared at Steve, who gave a shrug.

“Oh, I see,” Peter said, “so it's Carol's fault we're doing this.”

“Banner is a victim of trying to recreate the super-soldier serum and failing,” Steve said. “So no, it's not Carol's fault. We're doing this because Osborn's experimenting isn't something I would wish on anyone – and neither should you.”

Peter quietened, and MJ moved her chair a bit closer to him.

“As I was saying,” Steve started again, more gently, “he's held at the third basement level.” He called up the blueprint in question. “At Xiūpolis, we'll be provided with the appropriate uniforms and superficial identification. There might be more thorough scans the deeper Carol and I get, but we'll deal with it. Peter, you will plant smoke bombs throughout the building – at the very least the basement levels – and force an evacuation in time for Carol and I to slip out with Banner.”

“That sounds alarmingly easy,” Peter said. “I won't say 'what could possibly go wrong', because one, that's a jinxer deluxe, and two, there is _so much_ that could go wrong. How do we even know the smoke bombs will do the trick?”

“You're smart, aren't you?” Carol said. “I'm sure you'll think of something to set the alarms off.”

“This is the division on Horn?” MJ asked, reading the small print on the blueprint. “That's a fair bit out, isn't it?”

“Yeah, that and Xiūpolis is going to take us a couple of days, maybe half a week,” Carol said. “So at least we'll have time to go over all the finicky details, calm Peter's nerves.”

“Hey, it's not my fault I'm a living example of Murphy's Law!”

“Anyway,” Steve said, “that's the brunt of it. It's late – we'll go over the detail tomorrow. Get some rest.”

He left for his rooms, followed by the others.

*

The next day found Steve and Carol in the cockpit, looking out into the black and determining a route from Xiūpolis to Horn.

“So how'd you get Fury to sell us IDs?” Carol asked.

“I haven't, yet,” Steve replied.

“You – really? So we're going to Xiūpolis on the _chance_ that he'll sell us some?”

“Nick likes us,” Steve said optimistically. “I'm sure he'll have some left over.”

“He likes _you,_ ” Carol said

“He's tried to recruit you several times,” he reminded her.

Carol scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “I don't want any part in Fury's shadow war,” she said, and glanced up at him.

“Neither do I. Don't worry, I'm not going to agree to anything stupid. He's our best hope, is all.”

“Yeah,” Carol sighed. “Unfortunately. Do you want me to link him?”

“Later,” Steve said. “It's still early in Xiūpolis.”

“Evil never sleeps,” Carol quipped, making Steve chuckle.

“Let's say it's still too early in the morning to deal with Nick, then.”

*

 _“Well, if it isn't Captain Rogers,”_ Nick Fury said from the hologram. _“What do you want?”_

“Hello, Nick,” Steve said amiably, but Fury's one eye still looked mistrusting. “We were wondering whether you had any ID and or uniforms for the Horn division of OsCorp.”

 _“OsCorp?”_ Fury repeated. _“Didn't you morons_ just _lose Stark?”_

Steve's jaw clenched minutely. “Might be,” he allowed – he had forgotten how quickly Fury gathered intel. “But it doesn't matter. Do you have any?”

 _“Might have,”_ Fury said, lowering his head to stare at Steve. _“What do you have that I want?”_

The question didn't take Steve by surprise. “I have a fully equipped crew to take on one mission of your choosing without any expense on your part.”

Fury leaned back. _“_ Any _mission of my choosing?”_

“Any mission that will not endanger me or my crew needlessly, nor make us part of your everlasting game of chess. And nothing to damage our public record further – if something does come up, you'll have it erased, and dealing with Mr. Universe will be your problem.”

There was a thoughtful silence before Fury said, _“Very well. I have something lying around that you can have, provided I get it back – in mint condition. What's your ETA?”_

“About an hour,” Steve said, unable to hide the hint of a grin.

Fury swore. _“You son of a bitch,”_ he said. _“Fine. I'll see you then.”_ He cut the link, and Steve turned to his crew, who'd been trying to conceal their presence behind the cockpit door.

“You can all come in now,” he said, and they came out one by one, MJ first.

“Nice work, Cap,” Peter said appreciatively. “I like Mr. Universe, though, would it be that bad to have to deal with him?”

“You do not want to be indebted to Mr. Universe,” Carol told him. “Trust me.”

“Yeah,” MJ agreed.

“Carol, Peter and I will have to roughly estimate the fit of the uniforms,” Steve told her. “You don't have to come.”

“I will,” MJ said firmly. “I've never had the chance to meet Nick Fury, anyway.”

Carol looked at her sympathetically. “Cherish this part of your life,” she said, and Peter laughed.

*

Steve was leaning his weight on a beam, looking out at the cargo bay. Bay call was still a while away, but he wasn't waiting for the team; he was lost in thought and old memories, until the near-silent sound of Peter joining him shook him out of his memories.

“What's up, Cap,” Peter said, swinging his legs up and over the railing so he was perched on it, looking out in the same direction Steve was. “You worried about Banner, Fury, or both?”

If he were, he wasn't about to tell Peter. “Neither,” he said, “just remembering.”

Peter made a sympathetic noise. Neither Steve nor Carol had ever sat down with Peter and MJ to tell them of their past, but Steve guessed they'd both pieced it together pretty well by now, after all these years. At the very least, MJ had, and she'd surely told her husband.

They were quiet for a little while longer, until Steve could feel Peter practically bursting to say something.

“What?” he said, not unkindly.

“Are we not going to mention how I saw you kissing Stark when the rest of us were busy getting the fuck out of his ship?” Peter asked in a rush. “Because, you know, what the _hell_ , Cap?”

Steve could feel himself redden a bit, to his own mortification. He hoped the low lighting would be enough to disguise it, but no such luck.

“Kani, you're _blushing_ ,” Peter exclaimed, sounding almost as mortified – this probably only contributed to his continued questions. It was a known fact that Peter resorted to talking when he got nervous. “MJ was right! Gorramit, I always thought you and Carol had something going on.  And wow, _incredibly_ bad timing with Stark, though, seeing as we were running from him and all. Are you having a torrid affair with the Alliance guy in charge of _putting us in Zero_? Because that's a really, really bad idea.”

“No!” Steve immediately protested. “No, nothing like that. It wasn't like I planned it, it was just – something he did. I couldn't stop him.”

Peter looked his way again. “What, so he forced himself on you? An unsaid no is still a no, Cap, and you are not a victim, you are a _survivor—_ ”

“Stop,” Steve said. “Don't joke like that. And no, it's not like that either. I … look, Peter, it's complicated.”

Peter shrugged. “If you say so. You're not going to turn us in in order to prove your love to him or something, are you?”

“No,” Steve said again, a small smile tugging at his lips as he imagined the scenario.

“Okay, then,” Peter said. “Good talk.” He jumped back off the railing, and added, “Oh, and MJ wanted me to tell you it's a stupid as hell idea, but I said you'd probably figured that out for yourself already. I've got to pee before seeing Fury, so see you at bay call!” He hurried away.

Steve looked after him. “Yeah,” he said quietly, and the silence of the cargo bay enveloped him once more.

*

Xiūpolis greeted them with a vidcam surreptitiously moving in their direction, embarrassingly obvious in the rocky landscape. Peter waved. “So, Fury knows we’re here,” he said.

“He knew the moment we hit orbit,” Carol said.

“What, really?”

Peter’s wide-eyed expression made Carol smile, and she gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Well, probably. It’s _Fury_.”

“Come on,” Steve said, and started walking toward the compound not far off. It was a grey, hulking thing, not very easy to miss – it reminded Steve too much of an Alliance base for him to be entirely comfortable with it. Then again, Fury’s life motto evidently was “keep your friends close and your enemies closer”, so Steve guessed he shouldn’t be surprised.

As the others began walking with him, he glanced at _America_ over his shoulder. It made him uneasy, leaving her unmanned, but ordering MJ to stay behind would’ve been unacceptable after their talk. _America_ was half-hidden by a rock formation, and he hadn’t even needed to insist on putting all the security measures in place – Carol had executed hers automatically, wary of Fury and Fury’s planet.

Carol fell into step beside him, MJ and Peter close behind.

“He’s not like, royalty, is he? There isn’t any etiquette I need to know?” MJ asked, meaning Fury.  Apparently, she hadn’t forgiven Steve for not mentioning Namor was the reigning prince, the first time they had to pay a visit to Atlantis.

“I sincerely hope not,” Steve replied, a vaguely apologetic tone to his voice even as he joked. “Although you never quite know, with Nick.”

They arrived at the base not long after, and Steve nodded to the entrance guards, who wordlessly opened the doors for them.

The sterile white corridor that greeted them always made Steve feel slightly out of place, and he forced himself not to look down to see whether his boots left dirt marks.

“This feels like a hospital,” Peter said. “I hate hospitals.”

“This place always gives me the creeps,” Carol said in agreement, but any further discussion was cut off by Nick Fury striding toward them.

“Captain Rogers, Colonel Danvers,” he greeted them. “Parker, and..?”

“Mary Jane Watson,” MJ said. She didn’t sound nervous, but Steve could see the tendons of her arm where she was squeezing Peter’s hand. Peter made a face, but schooled his expression immediately after.

“I see,” Fury said. “Well, Captain, your uniforms should be right this way.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, and they followed Fury back the way he’d come.

“Your damn _manners_ , Steve,” Carol murmured to him.

“One of us should possess some,” Steve replied mildly, keeping his voice low as they walked after Fury.

“And your _jokes_ ,” Carol added in a sigh. “Honestly.”

They exchanged a smile before Fury led them through a doorway and stopped.

The room they were led into was incredibly large. Steve guessed it could be used to house several scout ships, maybe even smaller cargo ships; for now, it was filled with rows of clothing, going from the floor all the way up to the ceiling.

“Wow,” MJ breathed, before catching herself.

The rows were colorful, contrasting with the sterile whiteness of the walls in a way that made Steve want to shield his eyes. There seemed to be attires for every occasion in every color imaginable, bright orange and cool pink and some others that Steve didn’t even think he could pronounce.

There were a few of Fury’s people milling about, and as Fury led them deeper into the room, the colors of the clothing gradually greyed out to match the agents’ uniforms. Here, Fury called down two deep blue rows of clothing. “OsCorp Horn uniforms,” he said. “Male’s this row,” he pointed at one of the rows, “female the other.” He raised an eyebrow as he critically scanned their small group. “One for all of you?”

“The three of us,” Steve said, gesturing to himself, Peter and Carol.

“Go ahead, then,” Fury said. “Find me when you’re done.” With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared behind a row of Alliance uniforms.

“Look at this!” MJ said, already a few steps from the rest of the group, pulling out a green over-all. “He’s even got _fuel tower uniforms_!”

“I don’t think there’s anything he _doesn’t_ have,” Peter said. “Also, these sizes are weird. What’s the difference between a 32,3M and a 32,3N?” He pulled out the uniforms in question and was trying to compare them to his own body, apparently in vain.

“Oh, I’ll show you,” MJ said, moving over to help him.

Steve found, after some digging, a uniform that suited him, and a brief glance told him Carol had too. Peter was squawking about the size of his, but MJ was shushing him, saying, “That’s just it _fitting_. I thought you’d be well at home, I remember your old costume.”

“That was then,” Peter protested. “Now I’ve gotten used to those comfy engineering things and— ow, woman!” He pushed her hands off and glared at her.

“All done, then?” Steve asked, folding his own uniform.

“I guess,” Peter said, “just give me a second to get out of this thing. And _you_ ,” he glared at MJ, “stay away.”

“Fine,” she replied, eyes dancing.

After Peter had successfully struggled out of his uniform, the group made their way to the exit. Steve correctly led them through the maze of clothing until he saw Fury, standing by the door and speaking to another agent. He looked up at the sound of them.

“Oh, you’re done,” he said. “Good.” The agent handed him three IDs, which he passed on to Steve. “Here’s your ID – you know the drill, don’t break them and don’t get them made. They’re Rank 3, so if you want any further than that you’re gonna have to get there on your own.” Fury eyed them, and Steve nodded.

“Understood,” he said. “Thanks again, Nick.” He turned around, his crew in tow.

“You owe me,” Fury called after them. “Don’t think I’ll forget.”

“I wouldn’t,” Steve called back, as they turned a corner and Fury disappeared from view.

 _America_ was where they’d left her, and Steve allowed himself a small breath of relief. “It doesn’t look like Fury’s tampered with her,” Carol said, examining a part of her shell before entering along with the others.

“He wouldn’t leave a trace,” Steve commented, closing the cargo door. Peter bounded up the stairs.

“I’ll put these in the kitchen?” He waved the bags of clothing around, narrowly avoiding hitting MJ in the face.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. Carol had already disappeared into the cockpit, and her voice sounded on the intercom.

 _“Take-off for Horn.”_ There was that slight rumble as _America_ ’s engine’s started working, and Carol deftly maneuvered them out of the rock alcove. _“ETA 37 hours, systems check a-okay, no sign of Fury. Out of atmosphere in a couple of minutes, relative gravity on.”_

“Excellent,” Steve said. He was the only one in the cargo bay, MJ having left with Peter, so he looked over the room once more before leaving for his quarters.

*

 _“ETA Horn 5 minutes, checkpoints passed,”_ Carol said over the intercom, almost 37 hours later. Steve breathed out slowly.

They’d stopped for an hour on Korugare, a pit-stop to fix up _America_ ’s paint job, make her look shiny and new, and – most importantly – respectable enough not to even gain a second look as they landed on Horn. It had worked, as they were now landing without interference.

Steve looked out a window, OsCorp visible in the distance through the momentary dust clouds. He went to find the Landlubber while _America_ was still finding her ground, and drove it to the bay door. Peter jumped in the seat next to him, clad in the blue OsCorp uniform. He pulled on his collar and said, “No time to lose, Cap, let’s go!”

“Waiting for Carol,” Steve reminded. It was easier to be calm when Peter was so obviously nervous next to him – that way, he knew he had to be calm for the both of them.

Carol rushed down the metal stairs from the cockpit to the cargo bay, and patted the Lubber as she sat down in the back. “Good to go.”

The air lock released and the door opened, MJ standing by it. “Good luck!” she shouted over the noise, hands steady on the controls. Her face was tight.

“Love you,” Peter said, as they drove past her and out onto Horn.

The drive was silent. The engine rumbled sporadically, which Peter normally would’ve commented on, but he only had eyes for the gleaming lines of OsCorp, growing closer.

Peter had never told them exactly what his deal with OsCorp was, but – like with MJ and Peter and the war – Steve had gotten a rough idea over the years. He knew Norman Osborn was the reason Peter started running, and that it involved a former girlfriend. It wasn’t Steve’s right to pry, but he didn’t know more than that to see that this was clearly important to Peter – evidenced by the white-knuckled grip he had on the Lubber’s door.

They parked the Lubber not far away, easy to get to when they were – presumably – running back, and Steve checked his ID one last time to be sure. He wasn’t really worried about this part – Fury’s work, though it came at a price, was solid – but it was his duty to prepare for any eventualities.

“Ready?” He asked Carol and Peter as they made their way to the entrance.

“So ready,” Peter replied quickly, before Carol had the chance to say anything. She raised her eyebrows at him, but any remarks were immediately quelled by them reaching the entrance.

Steve scanned his ID first, moving on immediately when the systems flashed green.

They walked through the corridors with single-minded intent, to avoid any conversations with real employees, but Steve could see that it wasn’t necessary. There was a moderate amount of people walking at fast paces through the corridors, but each of them looked like they could’ve been the only person alive. Steve couldn’t hear any friendly chatter, only orders and reports in brisk tones.

They found the elevators, Betty Ross’s blueprints showing themselves to be the real deal. Carol flashed her badge again and pressed the button for basement level 2, finger lingering.

They weren’t entirely certain their clearance didn’t extend to level 3 – making certain would’ve meant accessing the OsCorp systems, which they had neither the time nor equipment for – but the last thing they needed was for the alarm to sound at this stage. Starting a level away from Banner’s containment also gave Peter additional ground to work with.

Steve clapped Peter on the shoulder briefly just before the doors opened. They split up immediately – Peter disappeared off to the right, and Steve and Carol headed for the stairs to the left. They were made of snowy linoleum, startlingly outdated compared to the hallways’ NeGal-floors, and visibly little used.

Steve led on, Carol following while exuding a calm competence. Sometimes Steve thought she should get her own crew – she was wasted being just a pilot – but every time he expressed this thought, Carol pulled him to _America_ ’s small gym and kicked his ass. “That’s my decision, asshole,” she’d say, holding him in a chokehold he couldn’t easily break. Steve tended to leave the matter alone for a while after that.

There was a checkpoint at the bottom of the stairs, and Steve met Carol’s eyes as he put his ID up for inspection, stepping close for the retina scan. They both held their breath in the second it took before the light flashed green and the doors opened. “We definitely owe him,” Carol muttered as she passed him and walked into the level 3 hallways.

Here, it was laughably obvious they didn’t belong. The dark blue of their borrowed uniforms, which had been predominant on the upper levels, was nowhere to be seen – replaced by stark white lab coats and gray scrubs.

They immediately upped their pace. Steve wasn’t the only one who’d memorized Betty’s blueprints, so he didn’t have to give Carol any directions – and, soon enough, they turned a corner to see the entrance of Section -3, H, where Doctor Banner was held. There were no guards, but this time, entering also demanded a vocal password.

A password that neither of them had any idea what was.

Carol approached the scan. _“Please stand still at a 15 centimeter distance,”_ the scan intoned in dulcet tones. _“Please sta—”_

Carol put her fist through the scanner, and the energy blast she released was deafened by the immediate rumble of the alarm. It sounded like thunder – Steve reasoned the pitch range had to be low to avoid any damage to the sensitive equipment held on the floor.

“Take the left side of the door,” Steve told Carol, and together they pulled the thick concrete apart, the fried systems thankfully offering no resistance.

On the other side of the door were 20 OsCorp guards, armed with blasters as big as their own heads, even with helmets on. Steve could hear the faint stomping of boots behind them, signaling another team not far off. “Stop, or we will shoot,” the guards said.

“Great,” Carol said, and roundhouse-kicked the speaker in the face.

Steve immediately ducked as the other guards started blasting, a dull boom roaring just past his ear. Carol fired energy blasts at the guns she could reach, making the guards drop their weapons with a howl. Steve struck an approaching guard with an uppercut, tearing the gun from his hands and bashing him in the temple with it.

The guards whose weapons Carol had made ineffective were now back in the game, raising their fists and coming after Carol. Five of the remaining guards were focused on Steve, so he turned to run up the wall next to the ruined door and kicked off, turning in the air so each of his feet landed in a guard’s face before he was back on the ground.

Beside him, Carol twisted away from a punch, grabbing her assailant by the elbow and flipping him over onto another guard. They fell down like dominoes.

Until now, the narrowness of the corridor had worked to their advantage, but Carol knocking over the guards gave the ones in the back, who were still in possession of their blasters, an opening – Steve felt the shock of a boom in his left shoulder before he heard it, and the pain hit not long after, an unmistakable ice setting deep in the muscles. He stumbled back, giving precious opportunity to a guard who tried to knee him in the groin.

 _Low_ , Steve thought, and regained his balance to give the guard a punch across the jaw. His blasted shoulder ached, but he still managed to bury his fist in the guard’s solar plexus, ensuring that he was down for the count.

The approaching footsteps were growing louder, and he knew he wasn’t the only one to pick up on it. Carol looked up from bashing two guards’ heads together to catch Steve’s eye and nodded deeper into the section, toward where Banner had to be held. Steve nodded back.

Only a few guards were still standing. One of them was firing blanks – mere gusts of air that did nothing except push Steve’s hair back from his face when he kicked the guard’s legs from under her. The sound of her breath leaving her lungs was remarkably similar to the sound of the blanks.

Carol summarily incapacitated the other two, and then they were running.

They turned a corner, and Steve counted the doors.“6 … 5 … 4!” He yelled, coming to an abrupt halt at the last one. Carol, her stop only slightly more graceful, looked the way they’d come with a pinched expression.

“Something’s not right,” she said. Steve didn’t reply, too busy breaking open the concrete door.

The room wasn’t especially big. It was brightly lit, and Doctor Banner was lying unconscious on a table, his arms and legs bound. A scientist was leaning over him, but she turned her head to look at the intruders with wide eyes. “You can’t be here!” she yelped, backing away and rooting on the surgeon’s desk next to the table until she found a scalpel, which she held in front of herself.

Steve swallowed to dispel the bitter taste the sight of the scalpel left in his mouth. “Ma’am,” he said, “just stay calm—”

“Hyargh!” A shout came from behind the door, and the scientist’s assistant jumped to put his arms around Carol’s neck, face wild. With a roll of her eyes, Carol flipped him over and left him wheezing on the floor, the exact same move she’d used on a guard earlier.

Steve tore his gaze away to look at the scientist again. “Please, we’re not trying to hurt you—”

“How come you didn’t hear the alarm?” Carol asked, stepping forward. The scientist started screaming, backing away further so her back was against the wall, but Carol just went for Banner’s bindings. Not looking up from the complicated latches, she asked Steve when the scientist took a breath, “Can you use it?”

“My arm?” Steve experimentally tried to roll his shoulder, and had to bite his cheek at the cold burst of pain that followed. The adrenaline was fading. “Not so much, no.”

“Gorramit. Alright, I’ll carry him.” She undid the last latching, hoisting Banner up over her shoulder, and they were just about to leave through the ruined door when they heard,

_“Carol Danvers and Steve Rogers. Would you please step out of the room with your arms in the air?”_

Steve looked over at Carol, who looked back. They exchanged a grin.

Several minutes later, Steve severely regretted that. _Sure_ , he thought, ignoring his left shoulder to grab a guard and throw him over Steve’s back in the way of another blast, fighting was fun, but they’d undoubtedly cursed themselves. Whatever team had been waiting in the hallway, it consisted of much better fighters than the other OsCorp guards – it didn’t help that both Carol and Steve had severe disadvantages. Carol still had Banner slung over his shoulder – she tried to drop him earlier, but that would immediately backset any attempt at getting away – and Steve’s shoulder hadn’t gotten any better. He was just glad it wasn’t the right one, or they really would’ve been in trouble.

Carol was firing energy blasts indiscriminately now, but their suits seemed to be made of a highly absorbing material, and so the impact was greatly reduced. Occasionally, their suits would slip to reveal a wrist or a neck, and Carol would aim and fire, but those occasions were getting rarer and rarer.

Steve could feel sweat dripping underneath the OsCorp uniform. It was torn in places, from guards and from Steve contorting to avoid a blast or anything else that was sent his way. One guard, who must’ve had his gloves lined with steel, punched Steve right in the ear, making him lose his balance and fall down on his knees. Steve’s vision wobbled before it snapped back into place, but it was already too late to evade the blast hitting him in his side.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he cursed, and Carol, who’d grabbed a blaster and was now firing that instead – her aim horrendous because she needed one arm not to drop Banner – gave him a quick look.

Just then, a high-pitched wail started coming from the walls. _“Would all personnel please evacuate,”_ the same dulcet tones as earlier said loudly, momentarily deafening the sound of the fight. The message was then repeated in Mandarin.

Carol was close enough that Steve could hear her breathe, “Peter. Fucking _finally._ ”

“Sorry, guys!” Jumping up onto the shoulders of a guard was Peter, his gloves attaching to the roof so he could kick the guard in the back of the head. “It took a bit longer than I thought, I met this woman and she wanted me to—”

“Save it for later,” Steve said through gritted teeth. “Fighting now.”

“Oh, right,” Peter said. He was standing on another guard’s shoulders now, so he leaned down to grab the weapon and then did a back-flip, wrenching the blaster from the guard’s hands in the process.

Sometimes Steve thought Peter might be showing off.

Even though their numbers had only grown by one, it was surprising how much that one could do when they had super-strength and some semblance of training. They weren’t beating them, not by far, but Steve thought he might glimpse an opening for them to run away. Steve bent down, his side protesting loudly, and grabbed the ankles of two guards. He _pulled_ , and down they went. He was up in a hurry, running back the way Carol and he had first come, and Carol and Peter weren’t slow in following. Six, maybe seven guys were on their tail, but Carol and Peter pushed the concrete door separating the entire section from the rest of the floor in the middle of the corridor, providing a cheap but valuable barrier. The elevators were packed with staff evacuating, so the team sprinted up the stairs. Even with Banner slung over Carol’s shoulder, they blended just enough not to cause immediate alarm as they got to the higher levels– these people really didn’t look further than the tip of their own nose.

They had to slow their pace to get lost in the mass of people who were moving slow as molasses toward and through the exit. The guy next to Carol, also dressed in blue scrubs, raised his eyebrows when he noticed Banner.

“Doctor’s orders,” Carol said shortly.

The guy was low enough on the ladder to take this as law, as he just nodded and went back to staring at the back of someone else’s head.

Steve had to fight the urge to look behind them every passing second they kept shuffling in the crowd. He was restless, renewed adrenaline still coursing through him, and reached up to push some sweaty locks out of his eyes. They could see the exit now, and with it the biggest reason for the hold-up: five guards were checking the IDs of everyone who passed out the door.

By now, Steve was pretty sure their IDs were void – it didn’t really matter, because they were bound to notice Banner.

“Time to run,” he said quietly to Carol and Peter as they neared the checkpoint. “On my count. Three… two… one!”

Simultaneously, they started sprinting, pushing people out of the way. Carol moved to the middle, so Peter and Steve could herd the crowd away from her and Banner on both sides.

“Hey!” the guy from earlier said, and large shouts of dissent followed their wake. The guards looked up at the sound of the noise. It took them a second to react – they were obviously stuck with checkpoint duty for a reason – but then they were fumbling for their blasters, yelling at Steve, Carol and Peter to stop. There were too many civilians for four of them to get a clear shot, so Peter ran ahead to distract the last one while Steve and Carol got to the Lubber.

The Lubber was where they left it, and Carol dumped Banner in the back, jumping in the driver’s seat without comment. Steve was lopsided, cradling his left arm to avoid jolting his shoulder. “They got you bad, huh,” she eventually said. Steve just nodded slightly, and Carol started the engine as Peter jumped on the Lubber.

“ _Kani_ ,” Peter shouted, long and loud, when OsCorp was starting to fade into the horizon again. “I can’t believe we did it!”

“I honestly didn’t think that would work,” Carol agreed, her fingers beating a quick rhythm on the steering wheel.

Steve was just resting with his head tipped back, looking at the scenery. “Good work, both of you,” he said. “What did you say happened when you were planting the smoke bombs, Peter?”

“Oh! Well, there was this lady, and she wanted me to fill out this form …” Peter chattered the rest of the drive, while the other two contented themselves with making agreeable noises at the appropriate places.

Steve was almost convinced that the day’s excitement was over – he estimated they still had a while before Banner awakened, and flying to meet Betty would take several days. The figure waiting for them in front of _America_ , however, proved Steve very, very wrong.

“Oh, good, you made it!” Tony Stark said, getting up from where he’d been leaning against _America_ ’s bulk. “I have to admit, I was starting to get worried.”


	2. Chapter 2

“OsCorp’s sent scouts out, we need to— Stop!” MJ exited _America_ to find Carol two seconds away from punching Stark, one hand already fisted in his shirt. Carol’s eyes flicked over to her before returning to glare at Stark, and MJ waved her arms around. “No, don’t punch him, he’s shiny – he explained everything to me, I can tell when we’re on _America_ , but Osborn’s sent teams after you guys, we need to _go_!”

Carol stepped away reluctantly, and Steve was right there with her. His instincts were shouting at him to leave Stark behind and get the hell off this planet, but MJ looked sincere, her eyes meeting Steve’s. Steve and Peter had also gotten out of the Lubber immediately at the sight of Stark, so Steve jumped back into the driver’s seat, driving it – and Banner with it – inside. Carol, Peter and Stark shuffled in after it. Carol disappeared into the cockpit at once, and they were airborne almost before Steve could seal the air lock. He did, and turned to the three still waiting for him in the cargo bay. MJ and Peter were standing close, far away from Stark – who was smirking at Steve, leaning against the metal stairs.

“Give me a good reason for why we’re not stranding you on the next planet up,” Steve said. He was unsettled by Stark’s presence – he didn’t know what it meant, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to.

“Because you owe me,” Stark almost sing-songed. “Remember?”

Steve did remember, and if what Stark was saying was true, it did help their recent encounter make more sense. He remembered them being trapped on Stark’s ship, Peter conveniently getting to his handcuffs and breaking out the rest of them, Carol’s neutralizers failing – he remembered Stark, cornering him and stealing a kiss before saying, _“Hit me.”_

Steve remembered hitting Stark and Stark going with it, falling to the ground so they could escape.

Steve sighed. “Let’s hear it in the kitchen, Stark,” he said. Stark immediately headed up the stairs, way too comfortable with _America_ ’s deck plan for Steve’s liking.

MJ followed him, but Peter stayed behind. “This is a bad, _bad_ idea, Cap,” he hissed. “Tell me why we’re not leaving his ass back on Horn?”

“Mary Jane said he was shiny,” Steve said. “I don’t like it either, but we’re going to hear what he has to say before making any decisions.”

Peter gaped. “You _are_ in love with him, aren’t you?”

“No,” Steve said, and succeeded in fending off the defensive note in his voice. “No, but this ship is about giving people a chance, and he’s getting his.”

“Are you _serious_ ,” Peter grumbled, but the rest of his complaints were lost in Stark’s shout as they entered the kitchen.

“ _Fuck me_!” Stark was yelling, cowering and holding a protective hand over his cheek. Carol was standing over him, and her eyes moved to meet Steve’s when he and Peter entered. Steve frowned, but Carol just shrugged in reply. “You didn’t have to hit me that _hard_!”

“I don’t have time for your stupid pick-up lines.” The ship wobbled alarmingly, and Carol slid back up into the cockpit, the intercom flicking on mere moments later. _“_ Now _I’ll hear your explanation for what the hell you’re doing on my ship.”_

“My ship, Carol,” Steve said. Stark straightened with a disgruntled expression, prodding at his cheekbone. The skin wasn’t broken, but it was going to be an impressive bruise, and the ice pack MJ was handing him was only going to alleviate it by a bit.

Peter coughed, and Steve realized he was staring. “Stark,” he said, taking a seat by the dinner table. “What the hell _are_ you doing here?”

“Well,” Stark began, dumping down into a chair opposite them and leaning back to rest his feet on the table, ice pack still pressed against his cheek. Then he paused, and started over again, his posture growing more grim. “First you need to know something. I used to be in the Alliance’s private sector, pretty far up. My company, Stark Industries, was located on Tengren. For twenty years, I built weapons, armor, anything and everything the Alliance asked of me. It got me high in the system.

“Then, a few years back, I was on a presentation on Korugare when I was snatched by a couple of locals. Korugare became blue after the war – they hoped it’d help the economy. Hell, these people were still dying of diseases we’ve had the cure to since Earth-That-Was, they were desperate.

“It didn’t. After ten years, they were still as hungry and as poor as ever, so when rumors spread someone like _me_ was coming to their planet, they rounded up and captured me. Stark Industries doesn’t deal with terrorists, never has, but what I saw when they had me – they weren’t terrorists, they were just terrified, regular people who’d had to watch friends and family die and couldn’t take it any longer.” Stark was silent a moment before continuing. There was still a faint crackle from the intercom, proving Carol was hearing every word that was said; Peter and MJ, leaning against the counter, were still.

“Anyway, I met a man and I got out, but I didn’t forget what I’d seen. I started digging, and the shit I found … exploitation of workers, human trafficking, my weapons used to—well, the works. I’m sure you guys know all about it.” Stark looked at Steve, who nodded minutely. They knew some, heard stories you couldn’t avoid with the people they met.

“So I said to myself, ‘this shit will not pass’, and I tried to see what I could do to help, to change it. A year later, I’m set to chase rebels, and Stark International is now Stane International.”

“Oh,” Peter said, “I’ve heard of that.”

“Yeah,” Stark sighed, leaning back. “Exactly. So, that’s the quick and dirty of it. I pulled my last remaining favors to get on your case, Captain Rogers, because I heard that if the Resistance ever organized itself enough to get a leader, it might be you.”

Something still wasn’t adding up, though. Steve frowned and asked, “Why’d you only come to us now, then? You’ve been after us for over a year.”

Stark smirked, a devilish gleam of teeth. “Leverage.” He got up, pacing the length of the dinner table as he gestured with the ice pack. “You don’t think getting out of OsCorp usually is that easy, do you? I tweaked the alarm and their systems, and spread the agents.”

“The alarm?” Steve asked.

“What, you think it’s supposed to rumble like that _normally_ , do you?” Steve stayed silent, and Stark gave a snort of laughter. “Oh, you’re precious.” His eyes flicked over to the door, down to the cargo bay. “Besides, Bruce is an old friend of mine, so I knew it was about time when I gave Betty Ross a hike to Baile.”

“You set that up?” Peter said, eyebrows raised.

“Well,” Stark said, like it pained him to admit it, “I couldn’t exactly get him out myself.”

“So you sent us into the heat.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? I _helped_ you!”

There was a noise from the intercom. _“That’s all well and good,”_ Carol said, the slight beeping in the background abruptly switching off, _“but why should we believe any of this, and not just toss you ass into the black?”_

“Because like it or not, Colonel Danvers, I am _good_ , and if I wanted to catch you, you’d be behind bars a year ago. Or that time I _had you in my ship_ , and I let you go.”

Carol’s snort wasn’t lost over the intercom, but she seemed too distracted to continue arguing.

“Oh, hello,” MJ said to someone in the doorway. Steve turned and saw a red-headed woman, smartly dressed, who gave MJ a small but genuine smile. He wondered when his ship had started adopting strangers without notifying him.

“Hello again,” the woman said.

“Pepper!” Stark got up to give her a loose embrace. With an exasperated look, she took the ice pack from him and tilted his head up to inspect the damage done to his cheekbone.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said, and Stark grinned at her.

“Will you kiss it better?”

Peter coughed, and Steve was absurdly grateful for the interruption – the sudden mood change of the moment had left him strangely uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, but what? Who are you? Did we put out an ad, and everybody just forgot to tell me?”

“I’m Pepper Potts, part of Mr. Stark’s crew,” the woman introduced herself.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter repeated.

“Old habit,” Potts said. “I used to work for him at Stark Industries.”

“I can’t tie my shoes without Pepper,” Stark said cheerfully. “So I brought her along, hope you don’t mind. I’d drag my pilot with me too, but he gave a long speech about duties and obligations and blah, blah – he wouldn’t come, anyway.”

“This is _really weird_ ,” Peter said. Steve agreed. MJ was chatting with Potts in low tones about something – they must have gotten to know each other while waiting for the others.

“Brought her along for what, exactly?” Steve asked. Stark had sat back down now, and was sitting opposite him. The serious, piercing look in his eyes as he met Steve’s didn’t help how Steve felt about this entire situation – he didn’t understand what was going on, and that was a feeling he didn’t like at all.

“I’m thinking we need a revolution,” Stark said, “and I’m thinking we’re going to be the ones creating it.”

Everybody stopped talking. Then: “It’s official,” Peter said, “you really _are_ crazyballs.”

“Oh,” Stark said, “speaking of crazyballs, we’re going to have to pick up a couple once this—” something hit the ship, and Carol cursed loudly, “—is over.”

Steve leaned toward the intercom in concern. “Everything okay?”

“Just _perfect_ ,” she replied hurriedly. “I _love_ Norman Osborn and his ridiculously armored scouts. Apparently there was one I didn’t notice, shielding us now. Shouldn’t take long to lose it.”

“If you’ve got it under control,” Steve said.

“Yup,” Carol replied, and cut the link.

“Who's the couple?” Peter asked Tony.

“Oh, just someone who owes me.”

*

The next few hours were tense. MJ had offered Stark and Potts a tour of the ship, which Potts accepted with a thankful smile. Stark declined – he was still slung on a chair by the table, his feet on it, and Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he started buffing his nails on his jacket. He was clad like he usually was, in a form-fitting suit in the Alliance’s navy blue. Peter wouldn’t stop looking over at him, and his eyes stuck to the uniform, to the brand of Alliance captains visible both on Stark’s arm and over his heart.

“Peter,” Steve said, to distract him, “go put Dr. Banner in the med bay, would you?”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

“Oh, Bruce!” Stark said. “Right, I’ll come with.”

“I—” Peter started, and then looked over at Steve. Steve sighed and nodded back; he’d accompany them as well, to make sure nothing happened.

Peter walked first. Steve was still having problems with his side, so his gait was slower than usual – Stark slowed his pace to match his step.

“So,” Stark asked, “how’s it going?”

“I’m sure you already know,” Steve said, giving him a brief glance, “you seem to know most things.” He wasn’t comfortable with Stark on his ship, not by a long shot, but it didn’t really matter. He’d be off soon anyway.

“Okay, okay, I’m just asking. Quick question, though, your pilot – is she seeing anyone?”

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Stark raised his eyebrows. “Is she seeing _you_?”

Steve resolutely kept his eyes on Peter’s back as Peter put Banner in a fireman’s carry, turning his head to see whether the two other men were still following him. “That’s none of your business, either, but no. Besides, I’m not the man to cheat.”

“Cheat! Oh, you mean—well, that can hardly be called cheating, can it? I mean, it was brief, innocent – all those adjectives.”

Steve stiffened, but Stark didn’t stop talking.

“ _Barely_ cheating, even if you employ an unusually strict code about these things. I mean, it could’ve been much worse – it wasn’t even second base, and everybody knows first base doesn’t count. Second doesn’t either, really, especially not if alcohol’s involved—”

“Please be quiet,” Steve said. They were inside the infirmary now, and Peter lifted Banner down on the gurney. His shoulder pulsed as he looked at the medical instruments, even though it had already started knitting itself back together under his unbroken skin, and he wondered if he should ask MJ to look it over. He didn’t think there was much to do, though, except let it heal. Blasts were a known pain to deal with.

*

“Are we entertaining His Majesty Whackadoodle?” Peter asked him, later. Stark had been in the middle of a rant before lighting up and running off, muttering something about repulsor stabilizers.

“No,” Steve eventually said. “We’re not.” There had been a bright flare in his chest, a tightening as Stark said _we need a revolution_ , but it was too sudden, too dangerous.

Steve couldn’t bear to lose any more.

“Okay,” Peter said, as if he’d almost been expecting something different. “Okay, well, that’s good, I guess. What are we going to do with him?”

“Drop him off at Yun, with Banner. Hope he doesn’t come after us again, and lose him if he does.” Looking back, it was painfully clear the meeting with Betty Ross on Baile hadn’t been coincidental – she lived and worked on Yun, who was a fair couple of AUs from anything resembling Baile. “I expect we’ll be there in a day or so.”

“And then things will go back to normal,” Peter said, and Steve nodded.

*

“You’re booting my ass, aren’t you?” Stark asked. He had returned from writing down his stroke of genius – Steve was assuming that was what it was – and was now back to bothering Steve. “Bad choice, Rogers.”

Steve turned his head to look at him. “What were you expecting? I’m not complaining about your sudden moral epiphany, Stark, but we can’t risk everything on a half-assed idea sold to us by an Alliance captain. Temporarily housing one is enough.”

“Oh, really,” Stark said sarcastically. “You think your ass is the only one on the line here, Rogers? You fought in the war, you’re revered – one of the Resistance’s most respected fellas, and you’ll have that no matter what. Me? As soon as my pilot reports in without me, I’ve lost everything to help you out – what I had left to lose, anyway. My name is getting dragged through the mud as soon as they figure I’m a turncoat, if it hasn’t happened already. I’ve got just as much riding on this as you, maybe more, and you _know_ a change is needed.”

There was an anger under Steve’s skin, a hot itching of tension. “To help me – us – out? Don’t put this on us. What’s driving you is _guilt_ , Stark, that much is obvious. This isn’t because you’ve suddenly wanted to take a brown shine to your coat, and you know it.” He stepped closer to put one finger in the middle of the Alliance crest on Stark’s chest. “You’ve been without Big Brother for a day, and you don’t call the shots. This is _my_ ship, Stark, you’ve left yours – I’m in command, and you’ll show me and mine some damn respect. The fact that we’re not just throwing you out into the black should be reason enough to behave.”

“I’ll goad you if that’s what it takes to convince you,” Stark said, eyes dark flints as he met Steve’s. “You’ll preach about the Alliance’s wrongdoings all day if you can, so why aren’t you taking the chance to do something about them? The only reason nothing’s changed since the war ended is because you’ve been too big cowards to _step up_! The Resistance has had bursts of potential – the demos on Fujon, Elise Jayneson – but none of that matters if you’re never going to take the final step, if you’re going to let things grow back and stay in this half-hearted rebellion limbo.”

“Don’t talk like you know how things are this side, Stark,” Steve hissed. “Anything like you’re talking about would take years to plan, you can’t just jump in and hope for the best—”

“Who gives a _shit_? Isn’t this what your side fought for? You didn’t fight at the battle of Serenity, but damned close. What happened to the tough bastards who fought tooth and nail before even thinking about showing tummy?”

“They _died_ ,” Steve said, and his voice scraped at the anger, deflating it until it was just a red-hot lump of coal in his stomach.

Stark quieted. When he started speaking again, his tone was low. “I’ve seen your Attenburg speech, Rogers. Where’s the man who said he’d rather die than lose his freedom?”

“He died with them.” It slipped out almost without notice, and it left Steve feeling open and shaken. They were standing so close he could count Stark’s eyelashes, could see the reflexive opening of his mouth as he heard the words and was starting to say something—

_“MJ here, thought you all might want to know that a certain Dr. Banner is about to wake up.”_

Steve stepped back as soon as the intercom sounded, putting some much-needed space between them.

“Bruce,” Stark managed, and then he was heading to the med bay. Steve followed his lead.

The rest of the crew and passengers were already gathered outside the door to the infirmary. “He hasn’t woken up yet. You can’t all go in at once,” MJ told them.

Stark immediately and unapologetically raised his hand. MJ gave him a smile, which caused Peter to look between them with a faint glower.

“I think it’d be best if you two went in first,” she said, meaning Steve and Stark. “We don’t want to overwhelm him, and you said you were friends?”

“Yep,” Stark said. “Good idea on not overwhelming him, he has a _terrible_ temper.” He strode inside the infirmary and hurried to Banner’s bed side. MJ had fluffed the gurney with some pillows, propped him up so he’d be more comfortable, but Steve could see why she’d been asking for a new one for quite some time – maybe one “without any bloodstains,” as she’d commented the other week.

The bloodstains weren’t immediately visible, not when she’d thrown a sheet over it like she had today, but Steve guessed his war standards were showing.

Banner’s heart rate had elevated slightly from the slow pulse Steve had heard when he’d been in here earlier, the sedative almost worn off, but Steve and Stark still had to wait a minute before Banner showed any signs of waking. Stark occupied himself by inspecting the various medical machinery in the med bay, and Steve had to force himself not to get embarrassed by how outdated some of it was – instead, he looked out the glass separating the med bay from the rest of the floor. Peter, Carol and Potts’ interested faces were all closely watching the proceedings inside, some in a more dignified way than other – he thought Peter’s nose might be touching the glass.

“He’s waking up,” MJ said, and true to form, Banner’s eyelids twitched before his eyes opened. Stark was immediately back at his side.

“Tony?” he mumbled.

“Hey, Brucey,” Stark said, and his smile was more honest than Steve thought him capable of, easy and so genuinely happy it took Steve a moment before he realized he could stop staring.

“What are you doing here?” Banner asked, his speech clearing quickly. Brown eyes flickered around the room, giving both Steve and MJ a quick once-over and pausing slightly at the people visible through the glass walls. “Did they get you, too? Tony, you have to—” A shudder went through him, along with an ominous cracking of bones.

“Hey, hey,” Stark said, leaning over and gripping Banner by the shoulders. “Bruce, calm down, you’re safe, we’re both safe, listen to me.”

Banner’s breath started coming easier, but his eyes were still restless, unable to focus.

“I’m safe, we’re safe,” Stark repeated. “We’re both safe.”

_You should be glad we’re not just tossing you into the black,_ Steve remembered himself saying, and wondered what gave Stark his conviction. “Doctor Banner,” he said when Banner seemed to have calmed himself, “my name is Captain Steve Rogers.” He saw Banner’s eyes widen minutely at the name, but the doctor hid any other reaction. “You’re on my ship, the unknown faces are my crew, and this is Mary Jane Watson, our ship med.”

“Hi,” MJ said, briefly looking up from where she was looking at an analysis screen and giving a kind smile.

“We’re the ones who got you out,” Steve continued, with a quick glance over at Stark. “We’re on course to Yun, where Betty Ross is waiting for you.”

“Betty,” Banner breathed, a small smile pulling at his lips. He tried to sit up, but Stark firmly pushed him back down. “What are you doing here, Tony? Did you pay them?”

“Not really,” Stark said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I offered them an idea as payment, but they weren’t so keen.”

“Most people don’t value intellectual property as highly as you,” Banner said. He reached up to rub his forehead, but moved his fingers back in front of his face with a frown and started twitching them.

“Seems so,” Stark agreed.

MJ noticed Banner’s trouble with his fingers. “The sedative’s left your system almost entirely, but from what I can gather, they had you under for quite a while, so you’ve suffered some mild muscle atrophy.”

“Sorry,” Stark said, “I should’ve gotten you out sooner.” Banner fixed him with a glare, then looked at the other people in the room.

“Thank you, Dr. Watson, Captain Rogers—”

“Please, call me MJ,” MJ said, blushing lightly.

“MJ, then,” Banner gave her a smile. “I’m sorry to ask, but could you give Tony and me some privacy?”

“No problem,” Steve said with what was probably too much relief to be entirely polite. The intimacy of the situation – not completely like what he’d witnessed with Stark and Potts, but not that different either – was getting to him again. He walked out of the med bay with MJ, and the door closing behind them immediately deafened any noise from inside.

“Well?” Peter asked. “How is he? He looked like he was freaking out.”

“He’s good,” Steve said. “He was lucid immediately, but disoriented – Stark calmed him down.”

“I think that’s because of the serum thing,” MJ said. “I couldn’t figure out what had happened, though, and I didn’t want to prod much.”

Steve gave her an approving nod. He looked back in at the med bay, where Stark had begun to pace, his mouth moving rapidly.

“Are they arguing?” Carol asked.

Steve didn’t know, but it was a relief seeing Stark’s face tighten again, concealing the openness it had possessed before – a relief and a slight disappointment, although Steve didn’t want to investigate his own feelings much. Stark looked out at them momentarily, and he met Steve’s eyes before turning back to Banner.

They quieted down not soon after, and Steve was embarrassed to admit he and his crew stood outside and waited it out. Banner eventually sat up on the bed and swung his legs out on the side; Stark sat down next to him, their shoulders touching as Stark wrung his hands with his mouth still moving. At some point, he jumped back up, and exited the room with a brief wave over his shoulder.

“Pep, walk with me,” was the only thing he said, and he and Potts disappeared around a corner. Carol and Peter exchanged raised eyebrows, before they went in to introduce themselves to their temporary passenger.

“Hello,” Banner said. He looked kind of pathetic, unable to stand up quite yet and still only capable of a limp hand greeting – he was still dressed in the scrubs they’d found him in at OsCorp, which didn’t help the impression.

“I’m Colonel Carol Danvers, this is Peter Parker,” Carol said, returning the greeting. “We’re the resident crew, we and the Captain here were the ones who bailed you out.”

“So I’ve heard,” Banner said. His eyes met Steve’s when Carol said _Captain_ , but he obviously decided not to comment. Steve appreciated it, his reputation preceding him always made him slightly uncomfortable. “I’m Bruce Banner, but you must know that.”

Carol nodded. “I’m a friend of Betty’s,” she said by way of explanation. “It was pure coincidence running into her at Baile and taking this gig. Or— well, I guess not.”

Banner looked politely questioning, which was impressive considering how obviously weak he still was. There was something big and intimidating about his presence, although Steve couldn’t set words to it – whatever it was, it hindered him looking as frail as he could have.

“Apparently Stark gave her a hike there so we’d help her,” Carol expanded. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“Oh,” Banner said. “He mentioned something about that, yeah. I’m sorry for your troubles, is it true he hasn’t paid you?”

“We’re not mercenaries,” Steve bristled, insulted.

“Uh, we kind of are, Cap,” Peter stage-whispered to him.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Banner said. “It just seems like a lot of risk to take on for someone you don’t even know.”

“Betty’s important to me,” Carol said simply, and judging by Banner’s expression, that gave her an immediate pass in his book.

“It’s not like Stark can pay us now anyway,” Peter said, sighing. “what with his accounts probably frozen and all. Story of my _life._ ”

“Frozen? What exactly is happening there?” Banner asked carefully, looking at Steve.

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” Steve said, with a slight raise of his eyebrows. He’d immediately assumed Stark and Banner’s argument had been about that, but apparently not.

Banner chuckled. “Yeah, Tony’s not very good at telling. There was something about an alarm?”

“He helped us out of the building,” Steve said. “After we’d found you.”

Banner’s brows knitted together.

“And now he’s on our ship,” Peter added, “because apparently it’s time for a _revolution_.”

“Oh, Tony,” Banner said, and where he’d wrapped his hand around the metal frame of the gurney creaked. He tried to get up, but immediately stumbled – Carol, who was closest, put a hand on his chest to push him back down.

“I really have to recommend bed rest until we reach Yun, Dr. Bruce,” MJ said. “Maybe you all should let him have it,” she told the rest of the team.

Steve nodded. “We’ll be arriving at Yun tomorrow,” he said. “Dinner’s later, if think you will be up for it.”

“Thank you,” Banner said, and Steve’s crew left the room.

*

The day felt like it had gone on forever when they were finally gathered around the dinner table. Peter had volunteered for kitchen duty, taking MJ’s turn this time around, and Potts had offered to help. Stark had been nowhere to be seen. It seemed like Peter and Potts had gotten along in the kitchen – Steve knew how much Peter could talk when he was nervous, and there was certainly something intimidating about Potts, but he didn’t look like he’d been choked for any duration.

Steve was almost too exhausted to notice the awkward silence as they ate. The day had been long – OsCorp rescue, finding Stark outside their ship, Banner – and he quite frankly just wanted it to end, not striking up any polite chatter to get the conversation going and instead focusing on each bite of the food. It wasn’t much to focus on, the same rations they’d been living off for weeks, but it was better than listening to the others eat.

Banner had managed to join them, and he was sitting next to Stark. Both of them were pointedly not speaking to each other. Steve wouldn’t have noticed, except both of them kept turning to the other and opening his mouth before turning back.

It didn’t help the awkwardness. Steve’s chewing seemed especially loud.

“Do you also live on Yun?” Carol asked Banner politely, breaking the silence that had accumulated since they’d sat down.

“Yes, I do,” Banner said, “Or, I used to. I’ve been on the run for a while.” As he put a slight emphasis on “on the run,” he turned to give Stark a look. Stark scowled back and took a bite of his portion.

They’d argued again, then. Steve had problems caring – his ears were still ringing with Stark’s earlier words, no matter how much he tried to force them away. He heard his own words as well, but they sounded hollower each time, becoming excuses when he’d said them as reasons. He tried to cling to the fury he’d felt when they’d shouted at each other, but it was just the despair that stayed, the heavy, old reminder of his losses.

When something was bothering Steve this much, he’d usually go to Carol with this, but he was worried she might say Stark was right.

*

There were no graveyard holograms when you were on the losing side of a war, no time for funeral traditions when soldiers were lying dead all around, but in his dreams that night, Steve still found himself standing in front of two graves. _Margaret Carter_ and _James Buchanan Barnes lived and died for their beliefs. May their sacrifices not have been in vain, and may Kani watch over them and guide them._

It wasn’t what their graves should say, not by half, but Steve didn’t know how to compress Peggy or Bucky into a single paragraph, into three simple lines carved into stone, and neither did his subconscious.

He sat down, the patch of ground under him solidifying as he did. Behind the graves was an eternal desert – he could see the shimmer of ice crystals in the sand, unaffected by the beat of the cruel suns. This wasn’t what he wanted, he wanted them _there_ , he wanted to ask them what they would do. He wanted to ask them if he was weak, because he didn’t think he’d live through another loss like this – he wanted to ask them if they’d think it was worth it, if he couldn’t.

_May their sacrifices not have been in vain_. The engraved words flickered and brightened, the twin desert suns dying out until only the pale shadows of a moon lit up the holograms. Peggy was caught turning to the camera, deep red lips curving into a smile – next to her, Bucky’s dark eyes were mischievous as he darted them to the side and then back to the camera.

Steve sat there staring at them until he was numb with it, the desert now completely covered in an icy layer, and the tears froze on his cheeks.

*

“Carol,” Steve said. She was sitting in the cockpit, a steaming mug of Nu-tea on the dashboard, and rubbing at her eyes while looking into the black.

The pilot chair swiveled as she turned to him, blinking. “Hey,” she said, “you’re up early.”

“So are you,” he pointed out.

She shrugged and replied, but it was lost in a yawn. “We’re going through a tricky asteroid belt,” she said again. “I trust the auto pilot, but I don’t trust it that much.”

“Right,” Steve said.

Days and nights were always a mess to figure out of when you were in the black, but the silence between them still carried the slowness of mornings, those comfortable moments before anything needed to be done or anybody needed to be anywhere.

“How’s your shoulder?” Carol asked finally, taking the mug in her hands and blowing lightly over the liquid. They had perfect temperature settings on the water boiler, but Carol still insisted to do it the old-fashioned way, boiling the water and letting it cool naturally. She said it reminded her of a dear friend.

“Better,” Steve said, moving it to demonstrate his improved range.

“You should’ve gone to MJ yesterday,” she said, her tone mildly reproving.

“MJ had her hands full with Banner,” Steve said. “It works fine, it’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Carol said, making it clear she was only agreeing with him because she wouldn’t push the matter. “Are you staying? Sit down, at least.”

Steve obediently took the co-pilot’s seat. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Carol’s quirking brow told him she hadn’t missed it. “What do you think of Stark’s idea?” he asked abruptly.

Carol took a sip of her tea. “Honestly?” she asked. Steve nodded. “I think it’s a good one. A stupidly reckless, horribly thought out one, but a good one.”

Steve tried to feel surprised.

“We have been sitting ducks for too long, Steve. Now, all we do is pick petty fights and try to stay under the radar. Do you remember how it felt to _fight_ , to stick it to those Alliance bastards?”

“Yeah,” Steve admitted.

“It was what we lived for,” Carol said, and her words hurt, because Steve couldn’t deny the truth in them.

“What about Peter and MJ?”

“Ask them,” Carol advised. “Give them the choice. You have to stop carrying other people’s burdens and making their decisions for them, Steve – it’s up to them whether they want to do this or not.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, injured.

“No, I’m sorry, it’s early and I haven’t had my tea.” Carol waved the still full mug. “You know I’m right, though, don’t you? Not just about you, but about asking them. I mean, if you’re going to do this.”

“Yeah.”

_“Approaching,”_ America’s automated systems said, and Carol took a big swallow of her tea before turning back to the black.

“Good luck,” she said, just before Steve left the room. “It’s not an easy decision.”

*

It took a while before the rest of them woke up, so Steve went back to his quarters to think. He remembered his dream with critical accuracy – he almost always did, it was a side effect of the serum – but he didn’t understand what it meant, didn’t know whether _May their sacrifices not have been in vain_ referred to the Resistance or himself. He didn’t know whether there would have been any difference between the two, to Peggy and Bucky.

_Sitting ducks_ , Carol had called them, and Steve could see it, even though he wouldn’t call these years on the run worthless – they’d helped people, made the world a better place, but it wasn’t _enough_. If the Alliance was a poisoned waterfall, they were purifying it drop by drop, their act redundant once the drop joined back in with the rest of the water.

After two hours of staring at old vid files, Peggy meticulously cleaning her weapons and Bucky giving the camera a thumbs up and a roguish smile every time it passed him, Dum-Dum and Falsworth and all the rest halfway drunk and red with mirth, Steve finally acknowledged that this was something he had to do, and that Stark – damn him – was right.

*

Breakfast was a casual affair, so people came and went. MJ was up to get a couple of rations for her and Banner, but she was gone before Steve could stop her. Stark and Potts arrived together, but Potts disappeared quickly. Stark remained, keeping a remarkably civil conversation with Carol.

Stark tried to catch his eye repeatedly over the table. Steve ignored it, for the most part – he met Stark’s gaze once, and Stark raised his eyebrows, opening his mouth to say something, but was interrupted.

“When are we landing?” Peter asked, his plate clattering slightly as he sat down.

“At around two,” Carol said, after swallowing her bite.

“Okay,” Peter said. “Oh! MJ told me to tell you that we need to buy more med supplies, too.”

“And rations,” Steve agreed. “We’ll see what we can get on Yun.”

“Could we get some _other_ rations this time?” Peter pleaded, exaggerating his puppy eyes when he looked at Steve. “Maybe ones that don’t taste like they were stored in bunkers on Earth-That-Was?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Steve replied. Peter sighed heavily.

After breakfast, Steve followed Peter out into the hall.

“Pete,” he said, “can we talk?”

“Sure, Cap,” Peter said, looking worried. “What’s happened? Did I do something?”

“No, no,” Steve said. “I was just wondering; what do you think of Stark’s idea?”

“We _are_ entertaining His Majesty Whackadoodle!” Peter exclaimed, then coughed. “You mean his Arab spring-thing? Well, other than it being completely and utterly insane, I guess I’m all for it. I mean, it worked out for the Arabs, didn’t it?”

Steve raised his eyebrows.

“In the long run,” Peter amended. “But yeah. No offense, but I was kind of waiting for you to do this. You were all ‘no, we’re dropping him off on Yun’, but I knew different, MJ totally owes me.”

“Not touching that,” Steve said. “So you’d do it, then?”

“Sure! I mean, why not? He’s right, isn’t he?”

“I think so,” Steve agreed. “That’s the problem. You didn’t exactly take a shine to him when he first came aboard, though?”

“MJ and me talked about this,” Peter said. “And, I dunno, he does have a point. I thought he was going to hand us over to OsCorp, but it doesn’t look like it – he’s at a disadvantage here, and he knows it. He wouldn’t have come out if he wasn’t being honest.”

“Maybe,” Steve said.

“I think MJ would join, too. She’d see it as her chance to be of use.” Peter’s mouth twisted at the words.

“I’ll talk to her,” Steve said.

“Stark is going to be overjoyed,” Peter said. “This is totally proof of your big, fat crush, Cap.”

“What—” Steve began, but Peter was gone before he could finish.

*

“Dr. Banner,” Steve said when he walked into the infirmary, “you look better.”

“I feel better,” Banner said. He was clad in a pair of brown pants and a purple shirt – Steve wondered whether Stark had brought them.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Felt like I’d slept enough, to be honest,” Banner said. “Tony came and played chess with me.”

“And messed with my stuff,” MJ commented.

“I’m sorry,” Banner said sincerely, “I couldn’t stop him.”

“MJ,” Steve asked, laying a hand on her arm when she passed him to put something gleaming on a shelf, “could I talk to you?”

“Sure,” she said, glancing over at Banner. “Is it about what Peter told me about?”

“Probably,” Steve said, and led her outside the medbay, off to the side so they weren’t in immediate view of Banner. “What did he say?”

“That your ‘giant crush’, quote unquote, was manifesting in us taking on Tony’s idea,” MJ said.

“Tony?” Steve repeated.

“Yes,” MJ said slowly. “He does have a first name, you know.”

“I know,” Steve said, flushing a bit. “I just didn’t know the two of you were so friendly.”

“Oh, calm down,” MJ said. “We talked a bit when he came to visit Bruce—” _Bruce, too,_ Steve thought faintly, “—and he’s a nice guy, if a bit extreme.”

“Okay.”

“Peter told you I’d be in?” MJ asked, and Steve nodded. She smiled a little. “He’s right. I think this just might be our break, Steve.”

*

Stark was still in the kitchen when he came back, manipulating a hologram between his fingers. He snapped his fingers as soon as he saw Steve enter, and the hologram faded out.

“Hello there, Rogers,” he said.

Steve took a seat next to him, leaning back and away from Stark. “I’m not doing this because of you,” he began. “I’m doing it because you’re right, because _it’s_ right, and because it needs done.”

“But you’re doing it,” Stark said, a surprised smile growing on his face, his eyes crinkling and warm.

“I’m doing it,” Steve confirmed, unable to resist a small smile himself. “ _We’re_ doing it.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, and Stark drew his fingers over the tablet lying flat on it, pushing it away and putting his elbows where it’d been. There was a small silence where Steve looked at Stark and tried to wrap his head around what they’d be doing, collaborating with _Stark_ , of all people, then—

_“We’re going to need a plan,”_ Carol said, from the intercom. Steve gaped for a second before pulling himself back together.

“We are,” Stark agreed. He seemed momentarily thrown by her voice too, which Steve took as comfort.

_“Yun first, though. ETA a half hour.”_

*

Everybody were still buzzing when they arrived at Yun. Banner looked like he could sense it as they all – save Carol – stood in the cargo bay, waiting for _America_ to land, and Stark sent Banner a slightly crazed grin and a thumbs up. Banner let out a small, exasperated sigh, but Steve could see him smile back.

Once the air lock popped off and the doors opened, though, Banner’s smile disappeared. “ _Betty_ ,” he said, shouted it as he started running toward her. Betty Ross embraced him, hiding her face in his shoulder. She was shaking, or they both were – Steve couldn’t tell from the polite distance he and his crew were keeping.

“I missed you,” she said, “Oh, Bruce, I missed you so _much,_ I thought you wouldn’t come back—”

He took her face in his hands and kissed her for a long time, and Steve had to look away.

After the two had had their reunion, the immediate love and relief fading, Carol stepped closer. “Hey, Betty,” she said, smiling warmly, and Betty hugged her, too.

“Thank you for bringing him back to me,” she said, eyes lifting to view the rest of the spectators, “thank you, all of you.”

“Hey, no problem,” Stark said easily, and Betty grinned at him, eyes still wet. Steve elbowed Stark in the ribs.

“You’re not leaving immediately, are you?” she asked.

“No,” Steve replied. “We’re picking up some supplies while we can.”

“Great! Then I insist you stay for dinner,” Betty said.

Steve looked at his crew. Peter mouthed ‘refuse free food? Are you _stupid?_ ’, Carol looked like he’d better dare say no, and MJ was giving him a discreet thumbs up. “If you don’t mind,” he started, “we’ll take you up on that.”

*

Peter said he needed to look for some engine parts – apparently he and Stark had discussed it at some point, and found several ways to increase the efficiency – while MJ was going to look for med supplies. Carol wanted to stay with Potts in _America_ , and so it fell to Steve and Stark to find some rations. Rather, it fell to Steve, and Stark invited himself along.

They walked through the streets in surprisingly comfortable silence. Steve was surprised Stark could even be quiet for this long, but he forced himself not to think about Stark for one second and instead enjoy Yun’s pleasing architecture.

The streets were crowded, but not overly so – Yun wasn’t the central terra in the area, focused largely on research facilities and education. Stark pointed out small things as they walked. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about the terra, probably having spent quite some time here visiting Banner – Betty seemed to be friendly with him as well, even though Steve had only seen their brief interaction from earlier.

It was odd, walking with Stark. Steve almost felt like they were different people, like stepping off _America_ had landed them in a different dimension where there was no Alliance, no Resistance – at least until he looked down, and saw the blue of Stark’s coat.

“There used to be an Earth-That-Was museum here,” Stark said as they passed a run-down building. “It focused on the first five World Wars. Pretty interesting, if you like that sort of thing,” he mused.

“I guess,” Steve said.

Stark looked to the side and saw his unease. “Oh, sorry,” he said, “sensitive subject, maybe. It had some of the actual technology used, though, which was real interesting – this was ages before blasters or anything like that, some of the stuff they used was pretty nasty. Shit, sorry, I promise I’ll stop talking now. Look, here’s a statue of Bernhart Genny!”

As they stopped in front of a statue of Bernhart Genny, renowned scientific genius, Steve leaned forward and read the inscription to gather his thoughts. This aspect of Stark wasn’t anything like he was expecting, and it was throwing him remarkably off-kilter. He’d been expecting something crude, mean and careless, and while there was certainly something in Stark that possessed those qualities, he seemed truly fascinated by the facts he were telling, and apologies were much lighter on his tongue than Steve would’ve thought.

They weren’t talking about anything of importance – Stark quickly shied away from any facts touching upon the war, and Steve followed his example. It was nice, actually, the conversation coming light and easy. The tension that had coiled around them ever since Stark had boarded settled down – not disappearing, not exactly, since Steve knew it could return at the drop of a hat, but thinning out enough for them to chat amiably while they walked.

Eventually they stumbled over an old army shop, the kind that was more brown than blue and wouldn’t mind selling rations to Steve’s kind of folk. Rations, more than med supplies and engine parts, were logged by the Alliance, and they were the most troublesome to get.

Steve side-eyed Stark, still wearing his Alliance uniform, and said, “I think you’d better wait outside.”

“Really?” Stark complained, stepping closer to Steve to avoid a lady in a rush. “I feel like a dog.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something to entertain yourself with,” Steve said mildly, stopping next to the door.

“What, like a ball?” Stark asked, and Steve gave him a smile, not replying as he entered the shop.

*

“It’s not much,” Betty said as she put food on the table, “but at least it’s something?”

“It smells _wonderful_ ,” Peter said fervently. Steve was starting to harbor honest worries that they weren’t feeding him enough on-ship.

“Thank you,” Steve said, and the other guests around the table echoed him. It _did_ smell wonderful – and it tasted wonderfully, too. Then again, most things would, compared _America_ ’s rations. There was a slight murmur of talk as everybody ate, in respect of both the food and the host.

Finally, Banner cleared his throat awkwardly. “Captain Rogers,” he said, and Steve noticed his Betty’s eyes immediately glued to Banner, an unhappy but resigned line between her brows, “I’ve talked it over with Betty, and I was wondering whether you needed any additional help on whatever Tony’s roped you into.”

“Our _revolution_ ,” Stark corrected, sipping something Betty had pulled out just for him.

“Yes,” Banner said, “that. I’d like to join you, if I could.”

Steve leaned back, surprised. He exchanged a look with Carol, who said, “We’re going to need all the men we can get, Steve.”

“Both of you?” Steve asked.

“No, just me,” Banner said.

“Well,” Steve started, “then I guess it’s—” he looked at MJ and Peter, the former of which gave an enthusiastic nod, “—welcome to the team, Dr. Banner.”

“For this, I think,” Banner said, “you best call me Bruce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry this took so long! I needed to re-plot (I'm a lying liar who lies, I'm sorry), and then I became ill, and then I lost my internet, so you know. At least it didn't take me an entire month! There's still one chapter left (maybe two, as a lot of shit still has to go down), so if you can't or don't want to subscribe here at AO3, I post all updates on [tumblr](http://kepteinen.tumblr.com).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, shit, guys. i'm really sorry about that.

Dinner ran late. Despite Banner’s words, it was clear he was unwilling to leave Betty’s side immediately, and the atmosphere was lively. The table was crowded, Betty and her seven guests making quite a bit of noise. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat with so many people without trying to negotiate something or offer his services – it felt comfortable and oddly familiar, watching the faces around the table.

“So then Captain says, oh, _you’re_ the robber!” Peter finished with a flourish, and the table exploded with laughter. MJ was smiling beside Peter – she and Carol had already heard his re-telling too many times to laugh, and it didn’t help that they’d witnessed the scene in question.

“Thank you so much for this,” Steve told Betty later in a low voice later, when the table had calmed. They were sitting next to each other. Steve had Peter and MJ on his other side, and Betty had Bruce and Stark – Potts was sitting next to him, and Carol linked the table.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Betty replied, “it’s the least I could do.”

“You don’t owe us anything—”

“I do,” Betty interrupted. “You brought back Bruce.”

“And now we’re taking him away again?” Steve prodded, quietly.

“No, no, I— I guess you noticed that, huh?” Betty gave him a deprecating smile. “Tony did too, he … anyway, it’s Bruce’s choice, and I respect it,” she said. “Can’t help it if I wish he would choose different.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, and he was.

“It’s not your fault,” Betty said, and with that, she turned to Bruce.

*

It was a sleepy and full crew that trekked back to _America_. The goodbyes had been soon after Betty and Steve’s chat, and had gone on for a while, so it was now very late. Steve was walking with Carol, and behind them were Peter and MJ; Potts, Stark and Bruce walked last, until Stark increased his pace so he was walking alongside Steve.

“Captain,” he said, “those two I mentioned? They’re going to be pretty damn helpful.”

“Who are they?”

“They used to be Fury’s,” Stark said. “And they have skills we need.”

“Right,” Steve said. “Where are they?”

“Kaynine.”

Steve looked at Carol. “Can you set our course?”

She sighed dramatically, then nodded. They were in the cargo bay by now, Betty’s apartment being on the outskirts of town and thus close to where _America_ was landed, and Carol went up to the cockpit.

“Rest up, folks,” Steve told the rest of his crew as they all entered. “Tomorrow we’re going to have to lay a plan.”

“Hear that, Pep?” Stark commented to Potts. “We’re going to get to see that ‘master tactician’ thing in action.”

“Oh, joy,” Potts said, but her lips were quirked.

*

“It’s ridiculous,” Steve heard Carol say as he walked toward the cockpit early next morning. He stopped. It was unusual for anyone else to be in the cockpit, especially at this hour. He set down the two cups of Nu-tea on the railing and listened. “She wasn’t made to take this many, Bruce will end up having to sleep in the living room.”

“He can share with Tony,” a female voice said – Potts. Steve frowned, he didn’t know she and Carol were close. Then again, they had been sitting next to each other at Betty’s, and Steve remembered them talking quite a bit.

Carol sounded skeptical. “We don’t know how long this will take, three in one room—”

“No, I mean— he can share with _just_ Tony.” Potts took a breath. “Our pilot, Jim, he’s picking me up on Kaynine.”

“Oh,” Carol said. Then, “Are you sure?”

“I am,” Potts said, sounding firm. “This isn’t the life for me, I’m of more use somewhere else, grounded. Truth be told..” She hesitated. “I came for Tony, but he seems to be doing alright, what with the ...”

“Yeah,” Carol agreed. “Have you told him?”

“Yes.”

Carol let out a breath. “ _Well_. You know how men are—”

“It’s not just that,” Potts said. “I started working for him once I got out of school, and I haven’t stopped since. I—that’s a long time, you know? I think doing something else until this is over will be good for me. And you might end up needing some grounded help, who knows.”

“What _are_ you going to do?”

“Not all parts of the Alliance disagree as strongly with Tony as he thinks they do. I’m going to see what I can do with them.”

Carol made a noncommittal noise, and there was some rustling – suddenly, Steve remembered that he was still standing outside the cockpit eavesdropping, and the tea in his hands was getting cold. He pushed up the door, and said, “Good morning.”

Carol gave him a half-wave, leaning back in her chair, and Potts got up from where she was leaning on the console.

“Good morning, Captain,” she said.

“I’m sorry, I only brought two,” Steve said, hands still full of tea.

“It’s fine,” Potts told him, “I was about to leave.”

Steve watched her go, and then turned back to Carol with raised eyebrows. She took one of the mugs from him and shrugged.

*

“Pep, Pep, pepperpot, are you _sure_ , though?” Stark was saying when Steve walked into the cargo bay. “Because you’re all I have, you know, and I—”

A shudder went through _America_ , making Stark break off. _“Sorry,”_ Carol said from the intercom, _“rocky planet design.”_

 _“Literally!”_ Peter shouted.

Steve kept a tight grip on the railing as he walked down the stairs, trying not to intrude on Stark and Potts.

“I know,” Potts replied belatedly, “I know you think that, but I think—” She caught sight of Steve. “I’m going to miss you, but this is a good thing.”

Stark didn’t answer, he just looked at her. Potts sighed and kissed his cheek, then nodded toward Steve. “Look, here comes your new captain.”

Steve took this as his cue to approach them, and they both turned toward him.

“I remember when I was captain,” Stark said. “Captain Stark – those were the days.”

“ _Alliance_ Captain Stark,” Steve reminded.

Stark shrugged. “Well, you take the bad with the good.”

Potts looked between them with a slightly bitter twist to her smile.

 _“Landing,”_ Carol told them. _“Grab onto something, everyone.”_

*

Steve was the only one who ended up going with Stark. Stark argued against more than a few going, and said Steve accompanying him would give him credibility. He didn’t have much to say to Potts, leaving her with, “Tell Rhodey he’s totally missing out. You both are.” Steve felt it was his duty as captain to see Potts off, and offered to follow her to Rhodes’s ship – when she declined, he gave her a respectful bow and said, “Goodbye, miss Potts.”

“Please, call me Pepper,” she said, after returning the bow.

“Pepper,” he repeated. “Then you had better call me Steve.”

She smiled. “Goodbye, Steve.”

Stark was unusually silent as they headed into town. Steve didn’t pry – he’d never gotten a clear picture of Pepper and Stark’s relationship, but he could guess well enough.

As they walked mostly in silence, it didn’t take long before Steve noticed they were following someone. A redheaded woman carrying two bags of groceries, who seemed fairly harmless – Steve wondered at Stark’s assessment of this couple’s skills. Then he remembered the comment about them being Fury’s people.

She took a turn into a dark alley, and they followed. Her groceries fell to the ground in a tumble, and in a flash she reached out to punch Stark – he twisted her elbow, but she moved with it and pushed him up against the wooden wall, a knife at his throat. In her other hand, she leveled a blaster at Steve.

“Natasha,” Stark choked, and she let her grip up just enough for him to breathe easily.

“I don’t like surprises, Tony,” she said. “Who’s this?” She looked over at Steve.

“Captain Steve Rogers,” Stark said, beating Steve to the punch.

“Oh, _damn_ ,” the woman – Natasha – said. She dropped the knife from Stark’s throat and holstered her blaster, bending fluidly to pick up her spilled groceries. “You’re going through with that?” she asked, straightening again with the bags in her hand.

“Yup,” Stark said, rubbing at his throat. The smile she gave him was all teeth.

“And you’re dragging us into it,” she said. “Thanks. Pleased to meet you, Captain.”

“You too,” Steve said, returning her offered greeting.

Natasha looked between them again. “Well, boys, follow me,” she said, and started walking.

She led them to a run-down apartment building, deftly unlocking the door despite both her hands carrying bags. “Glad to see you’re still all class, Natasha,” Stark commented in a gleeful tone.

She gave him a look, then smiled slowly, and Stark shut up.

Natasha rapped thrice on her apartment door before opening the door and entering. Stark followed her, and Steve went in last.

“Who is it?” Steve heard a man ask.

“Tony Stark,” Natasha replied, “and he’s brought Captain Steve Rogers.”

“Hello,” Steve said.

“Oh, _damn_ ,” the man said, then appeared in a slightly disheveled state. “Stark, you dumb fuck, you’re really doing that?”

“I am,” Stark said, “and you’re going to do it with me.”

“Right,” the man said slowly, then he looked at Natasha. “Uh, why?”

“Can we sit down?” Stark asked. “This hallway _really_ wasn’t built for four people.”

*

“I’m calling in my favor,” Stark said, when they’d sat down.

“Hi,” the man said from where he was sitting next to Steve, “I’m Clint Barton.”

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said. “Steve Rogers.”

Clint laughed a bit. “Oh, I know,” he said. “Anyway, Stark, you’re calling in your favor? For _this_?”

“Yeah,” Stark said, sounding a bit offended.

“You idiot.”

“Barton,” Stark said slowly. “Remember the last time any of my plans failed? Because I don’t.”

“Well, there was the thing with the—”

“Except that one.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at them, but stayed silent.

“Pep’s grounded,” Stark said, “Rhodey’ll help.”

“You’re still way too few,” Clint pointed out. “In my experience, you need more than six people to overthrow something like the Alliance.”

Stark’s grin turned slightly feral. “What about six people and Mr. Universe?”

“ _Him_?” Natasha raised her eyebrows.

“He owes me one.  I know he’s a creepy technophile, but if we can get him the right information to broadcast ...”

“And that’s where you want us,” Clint said.

Stark nodded. “Well, Natasha especially. Sorry.”

“No, I get that,” Clint said. “So what’s Captain over there’s job in all this?”

“A former Alliance captain and some unknowns aren’t going to gain us the people’s trust,” Stark said. “Rogers here is our credibility.”

Steve was feeling odd about this entire conversation, and being lauded as someone’s “credibility” made something twist in his stomach. He sure as hell didn’t _feel_ credible, didn’t feel like he could win the public’s trust – he was a soldier, and a soldier on the wrong side to boot.

“’Tasha?” Clint asked, looking at her.

She looked like she was weighing her options, then said, “I hate being in debt.”

“Fine,” Clint said, looking at Stark, “we’ll join your suicide mission.”

“Excellent,” Stark said, and he was smiling.

*

“You’re right, Stark, she doesn’t look like much,” Clint remarked as they approached America, gleaming dully under Kaynine’s night sun.

“Yeah,” Stark said, giving Steve a smug look.  Steve bristled. Stark had been making a lot of changes to America’s interior, and was not so subtly hinting that he wanted to re-make the exterior as well. No way in hell – especially not with the paint jobs he was suggesting.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Clint added, noticing Steve tense. “Sometimes not looking all that is the best camouflage.”

“Eloquent,” Natasha said, but Steve still eased the line of his shoulders. Friendlies, he reminded himself, even as he remained wary of how Clint and Natasha moved – calculating while casual, and too much of both.

“Will she even fit all of us?” Stark mused.

“She’s a cargo ship. Worst off, you can sleep in the cargo bay,” Steve said shortly. Stark grimaced at him, but his eyes were amused.

“It still smells of cow manure, I’m pretty sure.”

The air lock opened with a slight hiss and Peter stepped out, waving a little awkwardly. “Welcome back, Cap! And Tony. And new assassin people, hi.”

The group came close enough for Steve to put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, saying, “This is Peter Parker, he’s the mech. Peter, this is Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton.”

“Hi,” Peter said again. “I, uhm, I’ll just go find MJ and tell her you guys have arrived - “ he disappeared up the stairs.

 _“Hello, new meat,”_ Carol said on the com. _“I’m the pilot, Carol Danvers. Pleasure to meet you. Where to, Cap?”_

“Mr. Universe,” Steve said. “And I want everyone in the living room as soon as we’re off-world.”

“Your wish is my command,” Carol said. “Off-world in t minus 10.”

*

“Everyone, this is Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. They’ll be helping us with this mission.  They’re Nick Fury’s people – “ Carol huffed, “- but Stark vouches for them, and we need all the help we can get.” Steve gave Carol a stern look.

“Right, I’d forgotten Stark vouching for people and we trusting him is a thing that’s happening now,” Peter said. “Cool.”

Steve ignored him. “We’re all going to treat them like we would any other guests. Clint, Natasha, this is Bruce Banner and Mary Jane Watson, our ship medics.”

“Nice to meet you,” MJ said, but Bruce’s face was tightly wound, even as he bowed slightly in greeting. MJ whispered something in his ear as he stood back up.

The silence that followed was slightly awkward.

“Right,” Steve said. “There’s no point in keeping you all here.” Bruce and MJ immediately left with the barest of goodbyes, MJ firmly yanking Peter with her. Steve turned to Stark. “Show Clint and Natasha around? I have to talk to Carol.”

“Sure thing, Cap,” Stark said. “Abandon defenseless me to the assassins, no problem. Just don’t believe the note.”

“I have trouble picturing you as ever truly defenseless,” Steve said, following Carol out the door. “If you’re really desperate, you can try kissing them and then asking them to hit you.”

Before the door closed, Steve managed to catch Stark’s spluttering. He grinned, and Carol turned and gave him a look. He immediately schooled his expression, and Carol rolled her eyes.

“Boys.”

*

“I’m not going to ask you about Stark,” Carol said when they entered the cockpit. “I am not getting involved in that.”

“Good,” Steve said. “I want you to talk to me about the infiltration.”

“Right.” Carol gave him a look. “We’re having Fury’s people do that, that’s kind of why we brought them in?”

Steve nodded patiently. “You and Stark are going to serve as the distraction.”

Carol raised her eyebrows. “ _Stark_? Why, do you want him to talk the Alliance to death? I’m not sure how much help a civilian would be, why not give me Peter?”

“Stark has this suit of armor,” Steve said. “He said he could have Rhodes bring it to us. If it does half as much as he says it does, it’s our best bet.”

“I’m doubting this, just so you know,” Carol said, “but as long as I get to blow stuff up, I’m happy. It’s been too long.”

Steve gave her a small smile. “How’s our route looking?” he asked.

“About two weeks to Mr. Universe. Then I guess it all depends on what Alliance base we’re going to.”

“Stark will know,” Steve said. “I’m going to check in on him and the others. Don’t look at the stars all night, okay?”

“Sure thing, Steve,” Carol said, and smiled at him.

*

“… and Barton, if you try to enter here I will _put you in space._ This is no place for non-believers.”

“It’s the _engine room_ ,” Clint was saying indignantly as Steve came closer. “It’s not a temple.”

“Might as well be,” Stark replied. “I’m not going into detail, because you wouldn’t appreciate it enough, but _America’s_ engine is something else. And not just because I’ve worked with her.”

“Listening to you talk about mech has always made me feel vaguely unclean,” Natasha remarked.

“Oh, come on, Nat, don’t be like that – ow, no, _no, stop it, okay, I’m sorry – “_

Steve wasn’t quite sure what he expected as he entered the engine room, but Natasha was forcing Stark up against the wall, his arm curled behind him, the pose reminiscent of when they’d first found her. As soon as she saw him enter, she released him, and had not a hair out of place. Stark turned around and leaned back on the wall, rubbing his wrist and glaring at her.

“I haven’t missed you at all,” he said.

“Sure, you haven’t,” Natasha said, not looking at him. Steve gave her a confused look, and she shrugged.

“I really haven’t,” Stark grumbled. “Hey, Cap. What do you want?”

“How far along are you?”

“He’s shown us everything,” Natasha said. “Really, everything. I don’t think we needed to see the closets.”

“I was doing you a favor, now you know where to hide the bodies,” Stark said. Natasha gave Clint, who’d walked to stand next to Stark, a look. He whacked Stark lightly on the back of his head.

“And you know where you sleep?” Steve asked them. Natasha and Clint nodded.

“Next to this guy and that squirrelly doctor,” Clint said, jabbing a thumb in the direction of Stark, who flinched minutely and glared at him.

Steve nodded. “We’re shutting the ship down for the night,” he said. “You’re free to roam, but please keep quiet.”

“Hey, Cap,” Stark said as Natasha and Clint strolled out the room, “did you hear what I said about America’s engine?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Steve just gave him an unimpressed look.

*

For the first time in _America_ ’s history, her passengers didn’t eat together. There was an immediate divide that showed as soon as the next day; Stark, Clint and Natasha ate dinner by themselves, while Carol, MJ, Peter, Steve and Bruce ate at another time. Steve was vaguely surprised Bruce wasn’t eating with Stark, but his strong reaction and subsequent evasion of the agents proved reason enough – he also seemed to have struck up a friendship with MJ, and was happy discussing chemistry with Peter.

Steve worried about not being hospitable enough to their newest additions, but he didn’t know what do to about it. Sitting with them while they ate felt intrusive, and he still didn’t feel completely comfortable in their presence.

He didn’t properly understand why Stark ate with them either, considering how he’d seemed to have established a role among Steve’s old crew, and how he hadn’t acted like he harbored strong feelings of friendship for Natasha or Clint. Then again, it wasn’t really any of Steve’s business. It didn’t hinder his crew or his ship, and as such wasn’t anything he should get involved in.

Hopefully, the crew would mix on its own, grow into a single unit Steve could depend on.

*

The divide didn’t shrink, like Steve had hoped. Instead it widened, becoming almost physical to the ones caught between the groups, mainly Steve and Stark.

These were people who had to trust each other in combat, Steve thought grimly. They had to watch each other’s backs, and there was no doing that with such a disassembled crew as theirs. Steve had never been one for team trust exercises – as soon as they had some experiences in the field, people tended to forget petty disagreements and minor squabbles. However, this crew had no time building up that experience – it stood or fell on their very first mission. Steve wasn’t liking any of this.

His boots made enough sound on the metal stairs to the cockpit that he knew Carol wouldn’t be startled by his presence. Wordlessly, he sat down in the co-pilot’s chair.

She gave him a brief look, then continued fiddling with some dials. “You okay?” she asked, not moving her gaze.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Just tired.”

Carol hummed in response.

They sat there in silence, Carol eventually leaning back to look at the stars in a mirror position of Steve’s. This was one of the things Steve loved about Carol – she could just let things _be_ , when they needed to. The quiet sat there with them for a long time, until Steve’s shoulders finally relaxed. Carol gave him a small smile.

“How’s it going with Stark?”

Steve gave her a look. “I didn’t come here to gossip like old nobles,” he said. “I want to talk to you about how the crew’s fitting together.”

“Pretty sure that’s gossiping,” Carol commented good-naturedly. “You mean how the crew _isn’t_ fitting together?”

“Yes,” Steve said. Of course Carol had noticed, everyone had, but it was still relieving to hear it, that it hadn’t simply been him unconsciously comparing this group to his old unit and finding them lacking. “It’s not easing, and they can’t all be as wary of each other as they are now. We’re going into the field.”

“I thought about that too,” Carol said, meeting his eyes. “There’s no trust.”

Steve nodded. “We need to get them socializing, make them comfortable.”

“What do you suggest, trust falls?”

“Ain’t learned no man as well as I have over a beer and a game of cards,” Steve said. “So a friend of mine used to say.”

“I’ll eat with Natasha and them tomorrow,” Carol said. “Ease everybody into it.”

“Great.”

Carol looked at him with kind eyes. “Now get some sleep, would you? The fate of the world isn’t on your shoulders, Steve, even when it feels like it.”

“So you say,” Steve said. “Should I close the door?”

“No, don’t,” Carol said. “Sometimes I get night owl visits, but they don’t show unless the door’s open.”

“Really? Who?”

Carol tapped her nose, smiling. Steve shook his head slightly, but he was smiling too, the tension in his body almost completely bled out.

"Bye," he said, and left the door open.

*

"Hey," Carol said, sitting down next to Clint. Steve took a seat beside Stark, who wordlessly asked him what in the black he was doing.

Clint swallowed a mouthful of beef-flavored rations. "Hey." He looked at Carol, but she seemed content at letting the conversation end there, instead taking a liberal portion of the rations on the table. Steve followed her example.

“Ugh," Stark said suddenly, "I don't understand how you manage to eat so much of this shit."

"I burn a lot of calories," Steve said.

"Once I was abandoned on a barren moon for four months with only eggplant-flavored ones," Carol said. "You learn to appreciate just about everything else after that."

Stark pulled a face, but Natasha was nodding knowingly.

"Besides," Clint said, chewing, "the beef one's the best one."

"I'm not so sure about that," Natasha said, "the turkey one can be good."

"I can't believe you're discussing this like it's a legitimate food," Stark said, shaking his head. "When this is all over, we're all going to eat at the best restaurant on Mimir, because you've definitely all gone too long without something proper."

"Your treat?" Carol asked.

"My treat," Stark confirmed. He turned slightly to Steve. "What do you think, Captain, you in?"

"Yeah," Steve replied, meeting his eyes and smiling faintly. "Yeah, that sounds shiny."

*

Half a day later, Steve was walking along the corridor when he found Stark, sitting by the closed to the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxers and a sulk.

“What in the black?” Steve asked, stopping.

“They threw me out,” Stark said, “even though _I don’t cheat_!” He turned to bang on the metal door.

“Aren’t you cold?” Steve felt like he should offer him his jacket, or something ridiculous like that. Stark looked almost small, hunched against the wall, but his larger than life personality shone through as soon as he relaxed and shrugged, waving a hand.

“I’ve been worse, no biggie,” he said. “I increased America’s base temp the other day just in case of this.”

“It has been a little warmer – just in case you ended up nearly naked in the corridor?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows.

“In case of strip poker,” Stark clarified. “I don’t want any excuses about temperature.”

“You guys have been playing a lot of poker,” Steve said mildly.

“Not much else to do. I used to be chasing you guys through space, that was fun – this just going to place from place is really boring.” Stark grinned a little. “Besides, it’s not like I have a problem. Carol and Barton, maybe, but not me.”

A crash and a howl came from the other side of the door. Steve startled, but Stark didn’t react, still looking perfectly at ease.

“Who’s in there now?”

“Carol, Barton, MJ and I think Natasha?” Stark thought for a second. “Yeah, Natasha, Barton kept leering at her.”

Steve frowned.

“And by Barton I mostly mean me,” Stark added. “But dude, have you seen her? Help me up.” He stretched out a hand, and Steve grabbed it automatically, pulling with a little too much force so Stark ended up stumbling into him. Stark laughed a little as he steadied himself, and stretched languidly, his defined arms reaching up towards the ceiling. He and Peter shared the same muscle build - engine workers. Steve wondered whether he knew how to use those muscles, or whether he'd be relying on weaponry during the fight. They could squeeze in some basic training, there were mats in the cargo bay.

“You’re staring,” Stark stage-whispered. Steve blinked, noting that Stark’s arms were now back at his sides, and he was looking at him with an amused expression.

“I, uh,” Steve started, but Stark just gave him a grin and clapped his shoulder. "I was strategizing!" he defended. Stark was already walking away.

"I'm going to get some clothes," he called back. "Bruce is in the kitchen, sit with us if you want to!"

*

“A toast to our Captain,” Carol said, raising her glass. “And to tomorrow!”

“To tomorrow,” the others around the table chorused. They all drank.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? That this is happening,” Peter said. “It’s not just me?”

“It’s not just you,” MJ confirmed. “I’ve never met Mr. Universe before.”

“He’s … odd,” Natasha said, pulling a face at the word. “He’s not a big fan of people.”

“That part I’d guessed,” MJ said with her mouth full of food, pointing at Natasha with a chopstick. “He does manage to live a fair bit away from _everyone_ , somehow.”

“Makes it hell to get to,” Carol said darkly between bites. “We would’ve been pretty choked if we hadn’t found that fuel stop.”

“I still have my connections,” Stark said smugly.

“It was terraformed fifty years ago, and there was one man, his wife and their cow living on the entire planet,” Bruce said, dryly. “I very much doubt your connections having anything to do with it. Clint, pepper?”

Clint, who was sitting beside him, deftly took the pepper right as Peter was about to grab it.  
“No,” Peter said plaintively.

“Maybe I sold him that cow,” Stark said. “Maybe I’m an undercover cattle seller.”

“Cattle selling isn’t very profitable,” Steve said. Peter, MJ and Carol all nodded along. “I don’t think you’d get much out of it.”

“I guess you’d know,” Stark said, bumping him a little with his shoulder.

“We would,” Steve agreed.

Later, when the table had started chattering amongst themselves, Stark asked him in a low voice: “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, equally as quietly. “Why?”

“Well,” Stark wheeled, avoiding Steve’s eyes by looking at the others around the table. “I might have exaggerated my accounts with Mr. Universe a little bit.”

“What do you mean,” Steve said dangerously.

“It’s nothing to worry about! I just,” Stark winced, “think you should bring your A game to the persuasion table tomorrow.”

“My what?”

“Your A game?” Stark looked at him. “Your – Earth-That-Was slang, doesn’t matter. The point is, just let your charming and stellar personality shine through and he’ll be inclined to help us.”

“I have met him before,” Steve said.

“And how’d that go?”

“Carol punched him,” Steve said.

Stark laughed, but it held a worried edge. “You know what, I’m not very surprised. It’ll be fine,” he assured Steve, “he likes me. I just thought you might want to know.”

“Thank you,” Steve said through clenched teeth.

*

“You sure you don’t need back-up?” Carol asked. She was sitting in her seat, the console steady under her hands – Steve was in the co-pilot’s chair, and Stark was standing behind them, gazing at Mr. Universe’s techno-nest as it grew in the distance.

 “You just want to punch him again, don’t you,” Stark said, grinning when Steve looked over at him. “Steve said.”

“Wouldn’t mind,” Carol admitted with a shrug. “But I do think you’re placing a lot of faith in a man who _built his own wife_.”

“Hey, I was a technophile for a while,” Stark protested. “No judging, it’s completely natural.”

“Sure,” Steve said amicably, while Carol pulled a face.

“Out of my cockpit,” she ordered. “Hitting atmo in t minus two min, then grounded in ten if I find his landing pad. You’ve told him we’re coming?”

Steve looked at Stark.

Stark looked back. “Oops,” he said.

Steve cursed, and Carol sighed loudly. “Go. Out. If I get gunned down, it’ll be on your wallet, Tony.”

“I’ll double it if you fire back at that ugly thing!” Stark shouted cheerfully, before being rudely gestured out.

Steve followed him out and turned to him as soon as they were in the hall. “I can’t believe you!”

“Hey, I’ve been busy, okay,” Stark snapped, raising his hands slightly. “And he’s not exactly the easies man to get in touch with.”

“He’s _Mr. Universe_ ,” Steve said, exasperated.

“Exactly!” Stark looked down the hallway. “Look, I’m sorry, or whatever. I’ll go vid him now, we’ll get the best of both worlds – element of surprise and we won’t get gunned down. Okay?” He started to move, but Steve grabbed his arm before he could pass.

“Okay. But you need to start _focusing_ – this is your plan, your idea. We ain’t made it ours, not yet, and that means you need to sharpen the hell up.”

Stark wrenched his arm out of Steve’s grip and stalked down the hall, not bothering to answer.

*

The ship got a few scratches from the automated systems surrounding the nest before Stark managed to hail Mr. Universe, and Carol cursed him out on the intercom as he and Steve stepped out on the landing pad. Mr. Universe would be waiting for them inside, he’d said, and promised not to damage _America_ further. Stark stopped just before the entrance and brushed imaginary lint off his shoulders, giving Steve a practiced grin.

The multitude of screens had grown since Steve’s last visit, the blinking lights and changing colors making his head ache. “Tony!” Mr. Universe said, standing up from the couch. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Stark said easily. “This is Captain Steve Rogers.”

“Of course,” Mr. Universe said, “nice to meet you.” They bowed in greeting. “So, you said you had a proposition for me?”

“Yes,” Stark said, and launched into an explanation of their plan, shaky as it still was.

“Ambitious,” was all Mr. Universe replied. Steve still hadn’t said anything, not completely sure what his function was in this setting – neither, apparently, was Mr. Universe, because he asked: “And why is Captain Rogers here?”

“I know I can be flaky,” Stark said. “Turncoats usually are. But, hell, I figured if you can’t trust the crew of _America_ , you can’t trust anyone.” Steve recalled what Stark had said when they first met Clint and Natasha – he was the “credibility” again. The thought was sour.

“Thieves,” Mr. Universe reminded.

“Don’t pull that 熊貓尿,” Stark said. “They’re honorable, and you know it.”

“Sir,” Steve said, “I know we got off on the wrong foot, but it’s time for something like this. We’ll see it through, you have my word.”

“And why should I help you?”

“You’re already living on the edge of the law,” Stark said, bringing Mr. Universe’s attention back to him. “It’s a personal risk, yes, but not much of one – if we fail, you won’t have to do anything, and if we succeed, we succeed. Also,” he hesitates slightly. “Before leaving the Alliance, I fucked up as much of their info on you as well as I could.”

“Oh, really?” Mr. Universe said, looking intrigued.

Stark nodded.

“Hmm,” Mr. Universe said, sitting down again beside the female robot he’d created. There was a long silence, during which Steve and Stark both looked at him, and finally he said, “Very well.”

Stark smiled, big and sharp.

Mr. Universe smiled slightly. “I root for the underdog and I like to even the odds,” he said. “And now you’re bringing me the Alliance on silver? I promise you both – give me the info, and I’ll spread it.” He spread his arms. “After all – you can’t stop the signal.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to be notified on updates etc. but can't or won't subscribe here, everything also gets posted/linked to on my [tumblr.](http://kepteinen.tumblr.com)


End file.
